


In Between Days

by Anna_Heyward



Series: In Between Days 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bullying, Dean is a closet romantic, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, I promise, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phone Sex, Romance, Slow Build, discussions of physical abuse, friends first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:05:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 139,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3489326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Heyward/pseuds/Anna_Heyward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Milton has had a rough couple of years working on his master's degree and not getting to see his boyfriend Balthazar very much, but the light at the end of the tunnel is getting nearer.</p><p>Dean Winchester is struggling to get his life back together, between divorcing Lisa, his wife of 10 years, and only seeing his son Ben every other weekend. It's been a shit couple of months, but things are slowly but surely getting better. </p><p>Sometimes, though, that light at the end of the tunnel turns out to be an oncoming freight train.</p><p>And sometimes the person you'd least expect is the only one who can help you put the pieces back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I'm breaking one of my cardinal rules by posting this before I've finished writing the entire work, but you know what? I've been working on it for a year and a half now and, quite frankly, I think I need your feedback and encouragement to get me through writing the last 5 or 6 chapters. This is the first thing I ever started writing, so the early chapters may be a little rough. Constructive criticism is, as always, greatly appreciated. Thank you all for giving this a shot!
> 
> Also I wrote that summary in a bit of a hurry, so I apologize if it's a little cryptic and angsty. I promise that there's lots of fluffy goodness to be had here.
> 
> Thank you to my betas, my sister Kati and my bestie Bryna.

Late August

Castiel Milton wanted to be excited about whatever Balthazar had planned, he really did. It _was_ Cas’ birthday, after all, and he _had_ been spending every waking hour at the library. Between his nonstop studying for his master’s degree and Balthazar’s trying to make partner at the firm, he had barely seen his boyfriend the past couple of months. Then classes had resumed the week before at Garrison Academy, the all-girls school where Castiel taught history, and things had gotten even more stressful.

A night out together should have been a welcome change of pace. It should have been fucking _divine_. Plus Cas’ brother Gabe and his sister Anna would probably be there; how long had it been since he’d seen either of them? July 4 th, maybe? And Balthazar always did go all out for his birthday; Cas knew that, whatever it was, it was gonna be good.

At the moment, though, exhaustion overruled everything else, birthday or no. He would have given anything to skip this and just go to bed. His mind flashed randomly to freshman psychology and Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. _Too bad that’s not gonna be on my comps,_ he thought. _At least I’d get one question right._ He let his eyelids flutter closed and hoped against hope that Balthazar would let him sleep until they reached their mystery destination.  

“You alright, Cassie?”

_Fuck the party. Can I just have a nap for my birthday?_

“Yeah, babe,” Castiel replied. “I’m tired, is all. I forgot how exhausting high school girls can be.”

“Nostalgic for the relaxing days of summer vacation already?”

Castiel huffed out a laugh. “‘Relaxing’ isn’t exactly the word I would use to describe this summer, but yes. It just would’ve been nice if I could’ve taken my comps before the new school year started.” When the new term began his study time had been cut in half; less sleep was the resulting sacrifice made to the gods in charge of passing exams and hopefully graduating in December.

“I know how hard you’ve been working.” Balthazar massaged the back of Castiel’s neck as he drove. “That’s why you need a night out. You need to get away from those books and have a little fun. You remember fun, don’t you?”

“Fun? I don’t think we’ve been acquainted for quite a while.” Castiel gave a tired smile and leaned into Balthazar’s touch.

“Well, I hope the two of you meet tonight, love.”

Balthazar parked along the street and Castiel glanced around as the couple exited the car, his overworked mind at last registering where Balthazar had taken him despite the lack of signage by the door.

“Café Beautiful? Really, babe?” He could feel eagerness and enthusiasm breaking through his drowsiness. It had been ages since they had visited their favorite Asian Fusion place. The cozy reservation-only restaurant, tucked away and unobtrusive, was where Balthazar had taken Castiel for their first anniversary almost two years prior. Their 9-course meal, served by the chef herself, was the most exquisite food Cas had ever eaten. “This is amazing. Thank you.”

Balthazar grabbed the wine bottles and the wrapped box from the back seat and turned to Castiel, smiling. “Happy birthday, love.”

They made their way through the inconspicuous front door to their table, where the rest of their party was already waiting.

“Happy birthday, Cas!” Gabriel greeted his younger brother with a fierce hug. “It’s so good to see you away from your books for once.”

“It’s good to see you too, Gabriel. I promise it’s almost over. Just a few more weeks, then you’ll have me back,” he chuckled. He turned to the olive-skinned beauty at Gabriel’s left and kissed her on the cheek. “Hello, Kali. You look beautiful, as always.”

“Thank you, Castiel,” Kali replied. “Happy birthday.”

Castiel made his way around to the rear of the table to greet his sister and her husband. “Anna, I’m so glad you and Michael could make it. Thank you for coming.”

“Well, thank you for inviting us.” Anna hugged her brother. “The twins were so jealous when I told them we were having dinner with you and Balthazar. Dani asked me to give you a kiss for her.”

“And how’s Zachary?” Cas inquired.

“He tried to steal my car keys when we told him that he and his sister weren’t invited,” Michael admitted with a laugh.

 “They both just miss their Uncle Cas so much,” Anna added.

“Yeah, I miss them too. I assure you that when this is all over the three of us are gonna get in some quality zoo time. But you can actually thank Balthazar for arranging this. If it had been up to me I’d be celebrating my birthday in bed.”

Gabriel winced. “Geez, TMI, bro.”

Castiel rolled his eyes as he pulled out his chair. “I meant sleeping, Gabe. Actual sleep.” He sat down as Balthazar uncorked a bottle of wine. “And that,” he added, pointing to the glass Balthazar was filling, “is not going to help my exhaustion at all.”

“Well, good thing you brought a big strong man along to carry you home, love.” Balthazar looked down and smiled at Castiel.

 _God, he looks good in a suit,_ Castiel thought. _Maybe this was a good idea after all._

The couples sat down as the chef approached to greet them and go over the menu for the night. They dined on the most exquisite, artfully arranged dishes Castiel had ever eaten. Chef Mel was a delight, explaining each dish as she brought it out, each new course and each new combination of flavors more surprising than the last.

Two hours and several bottles of wine later Castiel was grateful his boyfriend had near-forced him to come. It had been too long since he had seen his siblings, and even longer since he and Balthazar had had a night out. He placed his hand on Balthazar’s knee and gave it an affectionate squeeze, smiling at his beloved.

“Thank you so much for tonight, Balthazar. This really means a lot to me. And you were right, I did need some fun.”

Balthazar winked an I-told-you-so at Castiel. “Don’t thank me so soon, Cassie. Night’s not over yet, love.” He reached under the table and pulled out a box in response to Castiel’s quizzical expression. “It’s not officially your birthday until you open your presents.”

Gabriel shoved a box and a long tube in front of Castiel. “No, no, no. Mine first. Mine first.” Kali raised a single eyebrow at her husband. “Okay, Kali helped. It’s from both of us.”

Castiel eyed the boxes skeptically, knowing his brother’s taste in gifts. “Is it safe to open here? I mean, this is a rather upscale establishment and I’d like to be allowed to return one day.”

Gabriel scoffed in mock offense. “Would I do something like that?”

“Maybe I should open this later in a less public location.” Castiel moved to set the box to the side, winking at Anna as she stifled a giggle.

“Come on, Cas. It’s good. I promise,” Gabe insisted.

Castiel opened the box and pulled out a t-shirt, laughing as he read the words on the front: _If history repeats itself, I’m SO getting a dinosaur._ “Where do you even find these things?”

“Hey, a magician never reveals his secrets. Now open the other one.”  Gabriel could hardly contain his excitement. “Kali found that one. You’re gonna love it.”

Castiel opened the cardboard tube and slowly removed the paper inside. His breath caught as he gingerly opened the poster. “Oh my goodness,” he gasped. “Kali, this is amazing.”

Balthazar leaned over to peek at the black and white print. “What is it, love?”

“It’s a reprint of the Waldseemüller map,” he replied, awestruck. “It’s a map of the world from 1507, the first one ever to use the term ‘America.’” Castiel couldn’t wait to get it framed to hang in his classroom and share with his students. “Oh, Kali, this is incredible. Thank you.”

“I’m so glad you like it, Castiel.”

Anna handed an envelope to her brother. “This is from Michael and me.”

Castiel carefully opened the envelope and read the card. Inside was a gift certificate for a massage.

“Okay, I know it’s probably not your thing, but believe me it’ll help. You’ll need it when this is all over,” Anna swore. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I’m sure I will. This was very thoughtful, Anna. I will definitely make sure it gets used.”

“By you,” Anna insisted, pointing emphatically at her brother. “You’re not re-gifting this to someone else.”

“Okay, I promise,” Castiel assured his sister with a smile. “When my comps are over I will use this.”

Balthazar took the card from Castiel and handed him a box. “My turn, now, love?”

Castiel set the gift on the table and gave Balthazar a peck on the lips. “Thank you, babe.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet.”

“No, but I’m sure I’ll love it.” Castiel replied, still gazing at Balthazar instead of the box on the table. He never tired of looking into those stunning blue eyes. Or the rest of the man attached to them.

“Ugh,” Gabriel groaned. “Will you two give it a rest? You should be past the disgustingly sweet phase by now.”

“Sorry.” Castiel blushed and turned back toward his present. He pulled back the paper and opened the box to reveal a leather messenger bag from Kenneth Cole. “Wow, babe. This is gorgeous.”

“I thought it was time to replace that ratty canvas one you’ve been using. Now you’ll look more like a professor and less like a University student.”

Castiel leaned in and murmured in Balthazar’s ear. “So, you, uh,” he paused, momentarily forgetting his words as those blue eyes began to blot out everything else. “You like the professor look, then?”

“Oh, good Lord.” Gabriel muttered, rolling his eyes.

“I can get my glasses out too, if you want,” Castiel smirked.

“And, I think that’s our cue,” Anna declared, rising from her seat. “Balthazar, thank you for dinner. This was lovely.”

Hugs and goodbyes were reluctantly given, and at last Castiel was headed home with his love, a bed in his near future. It wasn’t the birthday he had wanted, but in the end Balthazar was right. It was exactly what he needed. He took Balthazar’s hand and kissed it. “Thank you for tonight, babe. I love you.”

“You too, Cassie.”

Too tired for much of anything else, Castiel went right to sleep as soon as the pair returned home. The smell of French roast greeted him the following morning as he reluctantly rolled out of bed. He grabbed a quick shower and threw his books and laptop into his new fancy messenger bag. He had to get to the library as soon as it opened. The birthday party was great, but he had some catching up to do on his studying.

 _Just a few more weeks_ , he told himself. _A few more weeks then I can actually spend Saturday mornings at home_. _Doing fun stuff. Like playing professor._

Balthazar looked up from his paper as Castiel entered the kitchen. “Good morning, love.” Castiel bent down and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Off so soon?” Balthazar inquired.

“Yeah, sorry, babe. I have to get to the library. I don’t want to get behind.” He grabbed a travel mug and filled it. “I should be home hopefully by early afternoon. Dinner tonight? I can cook, if you want.” He felt guilty leaving so early after last night; maybe cooking dinner would make up for it. “Then maybe later we can watch a movie? Your choice.”

“Sounds perfect.” Balthazar hesitated a second before continuing. “You know, I actually have another present for you.”

“Babe, that’s completely…”

“Hush, love. I want to.” He stood up and crossed the kitchen, wrapping Castiel in his arms. “I’m going to go out of town the week of your exams.”

Castiel’s brow furrowed; he was confused. “What…”

“I have to meet with a client out of state, so I’m scheduling it for that week. This is a good thing, Cassie. You won’t have to pack all of your things and head off to the library every day. You’ll have this whole place to yourself to study in peace, without me distracting you. I’ll be returning Friday afternoon, after your last test. Then we can go out to celebrate.”

Castiel wasn’t completely convinced, but it did make sense. And Balthazar had to go out of town anyway. Perhaps it was for the best to do it that week; Cas wouldn’t be good company at all until this was all over. “What kind of celebrating did you have in mind?”

“I’m sure we’ll come up with something.” Balthazar leaned in and kissed Castiel. Castiel melted into the kiss, wishing to God he didn’t have to leave and spend the day studying. All too soon Balthazar pulled back and rested his forehead against Castiel’s.

 “I love you, Cassie,” Balthazar murmured. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

 

* * *

 

Dean had been having such a good day. Like, a really good day. Ever since his divorce from Lisa became final, good days seemed fewer and farther between. Sure, he had work, which was going well, and he had Ben every other weekend. But not coming home to Lisa and Ben together in the same house, every night? That was tough. After six months Dean still wasn’t quite used to having an empty house so many nights out of the week.

Then finally, things started to look up. He was putting the finishing touches on a set of custom bathroom vanities when he got a call about a new job. A really big job. Some rich doctor in one of those houses out by the country club wanted to renovate his entire basement. Full kitchen, wet bar, play room for the kids with custom built-ins.  He even wanted Dean to build storage cabinets for a freaking media room, the kind of room millionaires have with a projection screen as big as the wall and recliners with speakers in them.

It would be Dean’s biggest custom cabinetry job after splitting from Bobby’s contracting company and going out on his own, specializing in the woodworking he loved so much. The money would be good, and Dean’s savings sure had taken a hit since Lisa hit him with the divorce and child support payments. More than that, though, it meant that he was finally getting some good word of mouth. It meant that people liked his work. It meant that someone out there believed in him, even if his wife no longer did.

 _Ex-wife, dumbass,_ he had to remind himself. _Ex._

He still couldn’t get used to that part. Probably because he didn’t want to get used to Lisa being an ex.

Dean turned to the cassette player on the workbench and flipped the tape in the player to the B side. The opening strains of Metallica’s “Don’t Tread on Me” tore through the room as he grabbed his 320-grit sandpaper and turned back to the first vanity. He just had time to polish the dust spots off the first coat of paint before he picked Ben up from school. The final coat of paint could go on while Ben finished his homework later.

Halfway through sanding the first side Dean felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket; he pulled it out and checked the caller ID.

“Sammy! What’s up?”

“Dean, I got some bad news for you. It’s Lisa. Her lawyer filed a motion today to raise her child support.”

“What? Why? I thought we worked all this out months ago?” Dean turned the cassette player off and leaned against his work bench. He had hated asking Sam to be his divorce lawyer; he trusted his brother, and knew that Sam was a good attorney, but he didn’t like having to put Sam in the middle of all his problems. Yet here Sam was, once again, cleaning up Dean’s mess of a life.

“Well, apparently the tuition at Ben’s school went up this year. She’s asking for you to cover the increase.”

“But school started weeks ago. Why are we just hearing about this now? I mean, wouldn’t she have already known about this before?” A dozen questions raced through his mind all at once. “Will we have to go back to court?”

“I don’t know, Dean. I’m looking into it. But you know, maybe we can use this to renegotiate the custody agreement, get you more time with Ben.”

Dean took a deep breath and considered Sam’s words. “I don’t know, Sammy. I mean, what if we lose? I don’t want to risk losing the time with him I already have.” Dean remembered how adamant Lisa had been during the divorce proceedings regarding that sticking point after Dean asked to retain ownership of their house. Dean had tried to convince her and her attorney that he needed to keep the house, and his workshop in the back, if he was going to have any chance at keeping his new company afloat and making his child support payments. Lisa finally relented, but only if Dean agreed to have custody of Ben every other weekend.

It was tough now being in this big empty house, working every day in his shop that he had fought so hard to keep, finally getting his company off the ground and being able to support his son, when the price he paid was hardly seeing Ben at all. It was torture.

“You’re not going to lose the time you already have,” Sam assured him. “There’s no way, Dean. You’re a great father and you haven’t missed one payment so far. But if they’re asking you to pay even more now, it’s only fair that you get to see him more.”

Dean didn’t disagree with his brother, but come on, since when was life ever fair? “Nothing about this is fair, Sammy. Nothing.”

“It’ll be okay, Dean. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I hope you’re right, Sammy.”

Dean hung up and rubbed his hands across his face. He had been having such a good day, too. At least one good thing would still come out of it, though. This was his weekend with Ben and dinner with his son was always the best way to end any day. Dean grabbed his keys; his truck was still loaded with lumber, so he’d take the Impala instead. He locked up the shop, and headed to the school to pick up Ben.

 

* * *

 

Dean hated it with a passion. The pick-up line at school had to be akin to the worst tortures of hell. Normally he would suffer through it, the cars inching along bumper to bumper at a snail’s pace, but today he just didn’t have the patience. He parked his Impala a few blocks away and walked to the school. He needed a little fresh air and sunshine anyway. Dean made his way past the long line of cars and started to cross the front lawn of the school when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Dean? Dean, can I talk to you a minute?”

Of course, it would be Lisa. _Because that’s what this day was missing. A fight with my wife._

_Ex-wife._

“Lisa, what do you want?”

“I just want to talk, Dean. Did you hear from Sam? About the child support?”

“Yeah, he called me.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself. He was so not up for this now. This was supposed to be his time with Ben, and seeing Lisa always hurt more than he would admit to anyone. “Why are you even here?”

“I just wanted to talk to you. To explain.”

“Explain what, Lisa? That the tuition went up? That’s something they would have announced at the end of last school year, not three weeks into this year. So what is it, then?”

“Dean, listen…”

“No, you listen, Lisa. I agreed to your terms, I’ve made every payment on time, I’m… I’m doing my best here. So, what? Why isn’t that good enough for you anymore?”

“I knew about the tuition increase. They announced it back in May, and I wasn’t gonna tell you. I was gonna cover it myself. But two weeks ago they cut my hours at the yoga studio. I asked if I could rearrange some of my classes so I could pick Ben up from school, and they cut all my afternoon classes instead.” Lisa paused, and Dean could tell she was fighting to keep tears from welling up in front of her ex-husband. “Look, I’m not trying to screw you over or anything. I just need some help, okay?”

As angry as he was about the situation, he still loved this woman, and it tore him up to see her this way. He brought his hand to the crook of her neck and massaged it the way she had always liked. “Come home, Lisa,” he murmured. “Come stay with me. You and Ben. You need my help, I’m here for you. I miss you so much. Just, come home.”

“I can’t,” she whispered, leaning away from his touch. “We tried, Dean. It didn’t work. I can’t do it again.” She took a step back and cleared her throat, willing the moment between them to pass. “Look, I didn’t come here to interrupt your time with Ben. I just wanted to apologize for the increase. I’ll get going.”

Dean watched as his love walked away once again, hoping that the day would soon come when the sight did not rip his heart out.

“Dad, you okay?”

Dean turned and smiled at the other love of his life. “Yeah, buddy. I’m okay. You ready?”

 

* * *

 

Later that afternoon Ben tackled his math homework on Dean’s workbench while Dean finished painting the vanities. It had always been Dean’s rule that the weekend didn’t start until Monday’s homework was done. But how Ben ever got any work done with that level of noise in the room, though, what with the air compressor powering Dean’s paint sprayer and Led Zeppelin II blaring from the tape player, Dean would never figure out.

Although, Ben _was_ his kid. Ignoring loud ambient noise while listening to classic rock was probably in his DNA.

Despite the day’s earlier events, Dean was happy. Well, maybe “happy” was a bit much, but he was definitely content, at least for now. He had his son at home, a package of brats to grill for dinner, and a Die Hard marathon on DVD for Ben and him to watch later. He was about to wrap up a job, which meant he was about to get paid. He had a big job on the horizon, which meant extra spending money for Christmas. At least, he hoped that’s what it would mean. With this new curveball Lisa threw at him Dean wasn’t really sure what his financial future would be.

Seeing Lisa earlier, so soon after learning she was taking him back to court, had really thrown him for a loop. He was still getting used to the fact that Lisa didn’t want to be married to him anymore. Even now, six months later, he wasn’t entirely sure why she had asked for a divorce in the first place. He loved her, she loved him. Wasn’t that supposed to be it?

He and Lisa were young when they met and young when they married, sure, and things weren’t great all the time, but they were good more often than not, and Lisa and Ben were his family. He had made a commitment to them, and he had intended to honor that commitment until the day he died. So why wasn’t that enough?

He had been asking himself that same question every day for months, and was getting nowhere in terms of figuring out the answer.

With one final swoop of the sprayer Dean finished the final coat of paint on the vanities. He shut off the air compressor and took out his ear plugs. Ben had apparently finished his homework and was so wrapped up in a game on his Nintendo DS that he hadn’t even noticed the sudden change in the room’s noise level. Dean laughed to himself at the sight. _Definitely in the DNA_.

He walked over to the workbench and ruffled his son’s hair; he knew Ben hated it, but Dean couldn’t help himself.  “What do you say? You ready to close up shop and fire up the grill?”

Ben shut off his game and jumped down from his stool. “Can I light it this time?”

Dean never would have said yes when Lisa was there, but how could he say no to such an awesome kid? “You bet. And since you finished all your homework so fast, I’ll even let you man the grill.”

Ben’s face could have lit up the whole neighborhood. “Sweet!”

So, his life wasn’t perfect, but maybe this day wouldn’t be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Café Beautiful is indeed a real restaurant in Lawrence. I based the description off yelp reviews.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of me finishing Chapter 26, here's an early update.
> 
> Thank you all for reading!

Dean really did not want to go out. True, the last few months he’d barely left the house for anything other than heading to a job, picking up Ben from school every other Friday, or dropping Ben off again at school the following Monday, but that didn’t mean he was some fucking charity case in need of babysitting, which was exactly what this invitation felt like.

He really did not need Sam to drag him out of the house to some bar for beer or pool under the guise of brotherly bonding, or whatever shit Sam was trying to call it. He didn’t need any sympathy, either, after the judge approved the increase in child support approved the day before. And he most certainly did not need Sam to try to get him drunk and play therapist, telling him to get his shit together and get over Lisa, which was most likely Sam’s ulterior motive. Sam was a lot of things, but subtle was not one of them.

Sam was a good brother, though, and he’d helped Dean through some serious shit in his life, never once asking for anything in return. So if Sam’s idea of repayment for services rendered was to take Dean out and buy him a drink or three, Dean wasn’t gonna argue, even if he’d much rather be at home staining and sanding boards for the rich doctor’s basement.

Dean drew the line at Sam picking him up, though. There was no way in hell Dean was going to guys’ night out in a fucking Prius.

He pulled up in front of Sam’s house, parking his baby on the street instead of in the driveway. It was early enough that little Blake had probably not gone to bed yet, but her nursery was right over the garage and Dean didn’t want to risk it. His angel of a niece needed her beauty sleep, and Dean would never forgive himself if the Impala’s noisy engine woke her up. Luckily the little squirt was still up and ran to the door to greet him as soon as he came in.

“Unca Dean! Unca Dean!” She had barely just learned to say his name. Fuck, it was cute.

“Hey, Doodlebug!” He picked her up and blew raspberries on her belly, making her dissolve into a squirmy, giggly mess.

“Unca Dean! ‘Ess Ben?” She held her hands up in a quizzical gesture which could only be Blake-speak for “Come on, Uncle Dean! Where’s my best friend? It’s teatime, dude!”

“Sorry, Doodlebug. Ben can’t come tonight.”

The mixture of sheer heartache and utter outrage on Blake’s face was almost too much for Dean to take. Geez, not even 2 yet and she already had her dad’s bitchface down pat.

“At’s not nice, Unca Dean,” she scolded, punctuating her righteous indignation with a pointed finger.

“I’ll bring him by next weekend,” Dean relented, because how could he say no to that? “I promise.”

Sarah scooped her toddler up and kissed Dean on the cheek by way of a greeting. “Sam’ll be out in a minute. You want something to drink?”

“You mean, before we go out drinking?” Dean smiled. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

Sarah gave Blake her sippy cup and planted her amidst the hurricane of toys on the living room floor. “So, how is Ben doing? How’s the 4th grade treating him so far?”

“Oh, you know. So far, so good. Says his teacher’s cute. I don’t know whether to be happy that he’s getting all his homework done or worried that he’s already interested in girls. I am so not ready for that yet.”

“He’s a good kid,” Sarah insisted. “And you’re a great dad. I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about.”

“Yeah? Not if karma has anything to say about it. I have a feeling I’ve got some serious payback in my future, after some of the stuff I put my dad through.”

“I don’t think it’s karma for Dad you have to worry about, Dean,” Sam called out as he came bounding down the stairs. “I’d worry more about Ellen if I were you.”

“What are you talking about? Ellen loves me. I helped Bobby rebuild the Roadhouse after it burned down, for fuck’s sake!”

“Dean!” Sam hissed upon hearing the curse word, cocking his head toward the little one within earshot. “She’s starting to repeat everything she hears now.”

Dean laughed. “Well, then I am definitely coming back with Ben next weekend. That is gonna be so much fun.”

Sam picked up his daughter and kissed her. “You be good for mommy, okay?”

“You be good too, daddy,” Blake insisted.

Sam gave Sarah a quick peck as he handed Blake over. “I’ll call if we’re gonna be late.”

“Okay. Love you.” Sarah turned to Dean and gave him a warm hug. “You take care. And you better bring Ben over for dinner next Saturday.”

“Will do.” He kissed Blake on the cheek. “Bye, Doodlebug.”

“Bye, Unca Dean! You be good!”

Dean and his brother piled into the Impala and headed out. “So, where to, Sammy?”

“I didn’t have anything in mind, actually. Roadhouse?”

Dean had to think that one over for a minute; he hadn’t exactly been to the Roadhouse in a while. He knew his earlier comment about Ellen loving him and all was true, but he also knew he’d get an earful for ignoring her for so long. Ellen knew that he and Lisa had split up, but Dean hadn’t been by to visit since the divorce became final.

He had met Lisa at the Roadhouse, after all, and he just wasn’t sure if he was ready to go back. It felt too much like he would be letting down his family, his home, because he couldn’t make it work with Lisa. It felt even worse to cut Ellen off, though. She had done so much for him over the years, and was the closest thing he had to a mom. Better to go now and make amends while Sam was with him. Especially since Sam was paying.

“Sure. Sounds like a plan.” Good thing they were going to a bar. He had a feeling Ellen and Sam were about to gang up on him, and he’d definitely need a drink to deal with that.

He pulled into the familiar parking lot, amazed as always that, no matter how much time had passed, the place always felt like home. Much more so than the house he grew up in, anyway. If he wanted to get all psychological and therapist-y about it, he would probably admit that this place actually _was_ where he grew up. He was 18 when he started working here, just a kid full of piss and vinegar and anger at the world.

Ellen hiring him gave him something to do, a purpose, something no one else had ever given an 18-year-old Dean before. Then later Bobby hired him here also, hired him on the spot when the place burned down and Dean offered to help with the rebuild despite his lack of experience. Dean ended up with a career he actually loved, which was something he never in a million years thought he’d have. He owed his life, as fucked up as it was, to this place and the people in it. Not that he would ever say that out loud, though.

He was barely inside the door before he heard that familiar voice from behind the bar. “Dean Winchester, you get your ass back here right now!”

Just like old times. The way Ellen yelled at him, he never was quite sure whether to expect a slap upside the head or a motherly hug. Today, fortunately, it was the latter.

“It’s good to see you, Ellen.” He hugged her back just as tight, and mentally kicked his own ass for staying away for so long.

“Boy, I have worried about you so much.” She released him and caressed his face with both hands. “You know if you ever need anything, ever, I’m here for you, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean croaked out.

“Good.” Then came the slap across the back of his head. “Don’t you ever cut me out again, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Dean gulped.

“Now you boys go grab a table and I’ll bring your beers over in a sec.”

Sam started on him as soon as they sat down. “Okay, my turn now.”

“Come on, Sammy, not you too.” They had barely just gotten here and already Dean didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

“I’m just gonna say this once, and then I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

Ellen appeared with two pint glasses filled to the brim. “These are on the house, boys. You want any more, you’re on your own.”

“Thanks, Ellen.” Dean took a big gulp and turned to his brother. “Okay, spit it out.”

“Look, I know how much you loved Lisa. And I know you miss her, but Dean, she’s not coming back. You can’t keep putting your life on hold waiting for something that’s never gonna happen.”

“Sammy, I’m not…” Dean started to deny it, but Sam cut him off.

“Believe me; I know what that feels like.” Sam didn’t even have to say it. Dean knew he was referring to losing Jess.

Sam had dated Jess almost the entire time he was an undergrad at Stanford. They had talked about getting married after he went to law school. Then one tragic night she was hit by a drunk driver while walking back to their apartment after a party. Sam had stayed behind, not ready to call it a night yet. He blamed himself for her death, for not going with her. Almost didn’t graduate. He would’ve skipped going to law school, too, if Dean hadn’t convinced him that Jess wouldn’t have wanted that for him. She would have wanted him to keep going, not just existing, but _living_.

_"I know you miss her, but you gotta keep going,”_ Dean had told his brother all those years ago. _“You can’t put your life on hold for a memory, Sammy.”_

Halfway through his second year of law school, Sam met Sarah Blake. They married two weeks after he graduated.

“Listen, Dean, I know you’re hurting. This came out of nowhere. None of us saw it coming. But you can’t keep living in limbo, waiting for things to go back to the way they were. That’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to Ben. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but things will get better. And I don’t want you to miss out on something great in the future because you’re still living in the past.”

Dean didn’t want to admit it, but he knew Sam was right. And damn him for bringing Ben into it. That was a low blow.

“I just, I miss her, you know?” Dean paused, blowing out a deep breath, trying to find the right words for the jumble of thoughts in his head. He didn’t want to talk about it, to be honest, but he knew Sam would keep pestering him until he did. “I know she’s not coming back. I know that. But it doesn’t mean I wanted to let her go. I mean, if she would just tell me why she left, tell me what I did, then I could fix it, you know? But I can’t fix this.”

“Dean, this wasn’t your fault. You have to stop blaming yourself and looking for some way to fix it, because it was not your fault. You guys didn’t split up because of something you did. I know you. You wouldn’t do that. Look, I just want you to be happy, okay? Lisa will always be a huge part of your life, but I think it’s time to start a new chapter.”

“I can’t promise anything, Sam. I mean, it’s not like I’m gonna start dating or anything.”

“I know, I’m not saying that. Just promise me you’ll get out of the house once in a while, at least?”

“What are you talking about? I’m out right now!”

“Yeah, and I bet this is the first time in 6 months that you’ve gone out for anything other than work or picking Ben up.”

Well, Sam had him there. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, is the lecture over? The pool table’s free.”

“Yes, Dean, lecture over.” Sam grabbed his beer and started toward the rear of the bar when Dean pulled him back to give him a hug.

“Thanks, Sam.” Not gonna cry. There is no crying on guys’ night out.

 

* * *

 

Dean swore this would be his last hangover ever, because there was no way in hell we would ever go out drinking like that ever again. It was all Sam’s fault, really, for taking him to the Roadhouse. And Ellen, too, for calling her daughter Jo to tell her Dean stopped by to visit. And it was Jo’s fault for bringing Ash, who used to bartend with Dean back in the day.

It was fun seeing them again, after years of marriage and work and responsibilities slowly replaced spending time with his friends. He just wished the price hadn’t been feeling like crap the next day, because he was so not 22 anymore, and fuck, he was never touching tequila again. Ever. Especially since apparently tequila shots meant Dean would get instantly shit-faced while Sam would remain the sober one and get to drive them back in Dean’s baby.

How in the world Sam could match Dean shot for shot and not get drunk, Dean would never figure out. The guy was inhuman.

The following morning Dean had woken up in Sam’s guest room snuggled up with Blake’s security blanket and teddy bear; evidently Doodlebug had heard his snoring and thought her favorite things would help him sleep better. After half a pot of coffee, several Tylenol, and a stack of Sarah’s homemade pancakes with Blake, Dean was able to make it home. By mid-afternoon, Dean was just starting to feel human again, and Sam’s words were beginning to percolate in his mind.

He knew his brother was right, and last night was certainly evidence that he needed to get out of the house more. However, he also needed to figure out a way to cover the increased child support. He had a responsibility to Ben and to Lisa, after all. Suddenly it became clear in Dean’s mind what he needed to do. He knew it wasn’t _technically_ what Sam had in mind, but if Dean could make a little money on the side doing something he loved, and it got him out of the house as well, wasn’t that a good thing? You know, two birds, one stone? He picked up the phone and called Benny.

Dean had met Benny on a job a few years back; some guy had a tree he wanted removed and turned into a set of bookcases for his office. Benny’s company handled the tree removal. It was Dean’s first job using live wood, and it took some research, but the bookcases turned out beautifully. Benny had called Dean along on a few jobs since then, whenever removal of a full tree meant the possibility of more live wood for one of Dean’s projects.

“Lafitte Tree and Limb,” came the greeting in that familiar Louisiana drawl.

“Hey, Benny, it’s Dean.”

“Dean, brother, what’s happening?” Benny called everybody “brother.” Or maybe it was just Dean; it was hard to tell.

“Oh, you know. The usual.” Dean had told Benny about the divorce last time they ran into each other, but that’s not why he called. “Listen, I got a favor to ask. You still looking to hire someone?”

“Sure am. Still can’t find anyone I trust since Freddie left. Why, you got someone in mind?”

“Yeah, me, actually. I was wondering if I could come work for you, maybe part-time or weekends or something. I just, I’m in a bind, and I need the money.” Now that he actually said the words out loud, it sounded pretty stupid. Asking a friend to hire him was a bad enough idea, but then telling him he could only work one or two days a week? There was no way in hell…

“You’re hired. Can you work this Saturday?”

It was Dean's weekend with Ben, so he’d have to find someone to watch his son for a few hours. But he hadn’t really expected Benny to say yes, truthfully, so he’d find a way to make it work. Maybe he could ask Lisa to switch some days around or something.  He could worry about the details later; for the time being he was just happy something was finally working in his favor. “Absolutely. Thanks, man. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

He hung up, finally feeling hopeful for the first time in almost six months. Okay, yeah, so it was a job. And he got it to pay child support. Because his wife left him. But Benny was a good guy, and the few jobs with him that Dean had tagged along on Dean had thoroughly enjoyed. This was going to be a good thing.

Or, at the very least, it would be better than spending his downtime with another tequila hangover. Because he was never touching tequila again. Ever.

 

* * *

 

Castiel couldn’t believe it. He was done. He exited the History building where he had spent the past three days taking his comprehensive exams, looked up to smile at the blue sky, and took a deep breath. Sweet Jesus, he was finally, blessedly done. Two years of working on this friggin’ degree and he was free at last. No more classes. No more papers. No more exams. _No more._

For the first time in, well, as long as he could remember, he was going to get to go to bed at night and not have to get up early the next morning to study. He could sleep in. He could actually wake up and _not_ get right out of bed. In fact, he could stay in bed all day tomorrow if he wanted.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, collapse from exhaustion or jump for joy. His brain was buzzing in so many different directions he didn’t quite know what to do first. The only thing he knew for sure was that Balthazar was due to be back from his trip by the time Castiel got home. Cas was grateful that Balthazar had given him this week free from distractions, but he missed his man. He made his way toward the parking lot, putting the History building, the University, and the past two years of sacrifice behind him.

He slid behind the wheel of his Accord and checked his phone. There were two new messages, from his siblings.  He smiled as he pulled up the one from Gabriel first. “ _Way to go, Cassie! I’m proud of you! Drinks are on me! Until you get that big pay raise, bro, then drinks are on you! Haha.”_ He clicked the next message. Anna sent a photo of the twins holding a homemade sign that read, “Congratulations Uncle Cas! We’re glad you’re really smart!”

Castiel smiled, trying not to let himself get disheartened about the lack of word from Balthazar. After all, Balthazar was flying back in today; maybe his plane had been delayed. That happens all the time. Or, perhaps he was already home and was getting the condo ready for a surprise Congratulations-Your-Comps-Are-Over party. Or, as Castiel really hoped, maybe the celebration was going to be a little more on the intimate side.

_Please, Lord, let it be that_. _Please let there be a naked blonde at home waiting for me with a bottle of champagne._ Castiel felt himself flush a little at the thought and smiled. He rolled down the windows, pulled out onto the road, and turned up the radio, barely aware of what song was playing as he absentmindedly whistled along.

Twenty minutes later he parked in front of the condo and glanced around. No sign of Balthazar’s Benz nearby, but that wasn’t unusual. Parking around their building was a crapshoot on the best of days and almost nonexistent on the worst. He flew up the stairs of the building, still giddy at the thought of not having to study that night. Or the next day. Hell, he really didn’t have to pick up another book for the rest of the year, if it weren’t for the tiny little fact that he needed them for teaching.

_I wonder if I could arrange that? A book-free week at Garrison? There is that one copy of Monty Python and the Holy Grail in the school’s video collection. That’s historical, right?_ He laughed to himself as he unlocked the door and headed inside. It was quiet. A little too quiet, unfortunately. _So, no naked blonde with champagne, then. Damn._ He didn’t expect an answer at this point, but he called out anyway.

“Hey, babe! You home yet?”

Nope, no answer. He glanced around and discovered no relatives hiding either, so no surprise party, thank God. He headed into the kitchen, grabbed a beer, sat down at the kitchen table, and just breathed. For the first time in years he didn’t have anything pressing to do; it was a little surreal.

Slowly he took in the mess around him that had accumulated over the last week. Textbooks, notes, takeout containers, half-empty beer bottles, and more empty coffee cups than he even knew he owned all glared back at him. He was glad that he hadn’t noticed the layer of filth during the previous week. Now that it was staring him in the face, though, he couldn’t ignore it any longer. He stood up, sighing, and started tossing boxes and bottles into the garbage. Not exactly the celebration he had imagined, but it had to get done sooner or later.

An hour and two garbage bags later, the condo finally looked more like home again and less like the site of a week-long frat party. Still no word from Balthazar, so Castiel fired off a quick text message and headed into the bedroom to change. He stuffed his jeans and shirt into the overflowing hamper. _Might as well get some laundry done while I’m playing Merry Maids, since apparently nothing else is going to happen,_ he thought drily, dragging the hamper to the stacked units in the hallway cupboard.

The first load underway, he returned to the bedroom to get Balthazar’s basket from the other closet. _He had better have one hell of a celebration planned for when he gets home._ Castiel was nearing the point where disappointment was giving way to supreme irritation. _Where the hell is he?_

Castiel jerked open Balthazar’s closet door to grab the other hamper and froze. Disappointment and irritation suddenly fled as his heart stopped. The closet was empty. Not just going-on-a-trip empty, or I-don’t-know-what-the-weather-will-be-like-so-I’ll-pack-everything empty.

No, Balthazar’s closet was completely empty. As in, _empty_. Bare. Completely free of clothing. And hangers. Where the hell were all the hangers?

Castiel ran to the dresser and wrenched open Balthazar’s drawers one by one. All empty. Nothing.

_What the fuck?!?_

Castiel grabbed his phone and noticed that his text to Balthazar had come back as “undelivered.” _And what the hell is that about?_ He pulled up his contact list and dialed Balthazar’s number. There’s got to be an explanation. Something. Anything.

He felt his heart almost beat out of his chest as it rang once, twice. Then he heard the annoying three tone chime and the electronic voice mocking him. _“The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service. Please check the number and try again.”_

He stood there a moment, heart beating out of his chest. _What the fucking fuck is going on?_

He picked up the phone again, this time calling the receptionist at Balthazar’s firm. Maybe she knew where Balthazar was.

The greeting that sounded in his ear was a little too chipper. “The Law offices of Jefferson & Montgomery, this is Kathy, how may I direct your call?”

“I- I’m trying to reach Balthazar,” he managed to stutter out. “Do you know when he’s due back? This is…”

“I’m very sorry, sir.” The receptionist cut him off. “Balthazar Roché is no longer with this firm. His last day was last Friday. Would you like to speak to another attorney?”

Castiel dropped the phone as he felt his blood run cold. He sank to the floor as the sudden, heartbreaking realization slowly began to sink in.

Balthazar didn’t just go out of town on some trip. He quit his job. _He quit his job a week ago._

Castiel picked up the phone again and dialed his brother.

“Hello?”

“Gabe…” _Oh, God. Oh, God._

“Cassie! I’m surprised to hear from you! I thought you’d be balls-deep in celebrating by now. Or is that Balthazar’s job?”

“Gabriel,” he croaked, starting to hyperventilate. _I can’t breathe. Jesus Christ, I can’t breathe._

“Cas, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I think Balthazar left me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for major Cas feels.

“I can’t believe he would do this. And he didn’t leave a letter or anything? Not even a text message or a post-it note?”

“No, Gabe, not that I could tell.” Castiel’s mind was still reeling. Had there been a note and he missed it among all the Chinese takeout containers he’d thrown away? Maybe he should go through the garbage. He should go through the garbage until he found a post-it note with an “I’m sorry” scrawled on it. Maybe then this would make sense.

“And he changed his phone number too? What a spineless dick. Fucking coward.” Gabriel picked up the bottle of bourbon from the coffee table and poured himself and his brother another finger each. “He had better hope I never figure out where he snuck off to. I could have him seriously fucked up.”

Castiel grabbed his glass and downed the refill in one gulp, the burn in his throat barely registering. He should have seen this coming. Hell, he should have at least figured it out when Balthazar actually left on Monday, but no, he was too wrapped up in his own shit.

“No, really,” Gabriel continued. “I know a guy. Just buy him a six pack of Shiner and that prick would be eating through a straw for the next month.”

“That’s not necessary, Gabe,” Castiel sighed.  Had he really been that far removed from this relationship that he hadn’t even noticed he’d been dumped until five days later? Five whole fucking days?

“Listen, bro. I know what you’re probably thinking, and you need to stop it right now. This is not your fault. You did not run him off, or alienate him, or whatever else it is you think you did wrong. You did nothing wrong. He’s the asshole here, not you.”

Maybe Cas deserved this. He had spent more time during the past two years with his books than he’d spent with his boyfriend. Of course Balthazar left; he was tired of being ignored. Who wants to be around someone who continually ignores them?

“Gabe, do you… do you think I’m selfish?”

“You? No, Cas. You are not selfish.” Gabriel’s words did little to reassure him. “You are the least selfish person I know.”

“He moved out on Monday and I didn’t even notice, Gabe. I’ve been so busy, I’ve been neglecting him…”

Gabriel cut him off. “You haven’t been neglecting him; you’ve been working your ass off. For a degree which _he_ suggested you go for, by the way. Hell, he’s been to law school. He knew what he was getting into with you going to grad school and working full time. He knew – we all knew – that this was only temporary, that you’d probably be a miserable hermit for a couple of years but then you’d rock this bitch and we’d have you back.

“Listen to me, Cas,” Gabriel continued. “Doing something for yourself does not make you selfish. Lying and sneaking out without an explanation, after three years together? _That_ is selfish.”

Castiel stared at the almost-empty bottle on the coffee table and contemplated polishing it off. He wanted to believe Gabriel’s words, but it was just too much, his heart still too raw to make sense of anything right now. Alcohol and sleep, that’s what he needed right now. Just forget this day ever happened and deal with the rest later. He picked up the bottle and emptied it into his glass.

“What am I gonna do now?”

“Right now? You’re gonna pack your stuff and come stay with me and Kali. I am not letting you stay here in this mausoleum of relationship death. Then tomorrow I’ll call the school and get you a sub for a few days so you can sleep until next Tuesday.” Gabriel moved next to Castiel and put his arms around his younger brother.

“Beyond that, we’ll just take it one day at a time,” he spoke softly, pulling Castiel in closer. “I got you, bro.”

 

* * *

 

Castiel woke up the following morning in the guest room at Gabriel’s house, squinting and blinking against the harsh sunlight. He glanced at the alarm clock – 10:14 am. He shuffled toward the window, drew the curtains, and went back to sleep.

 

* * *

   

Darkness this time. He rolled over and turned toward the nightstand – 8:15 pm. He shut his eyes and pulled the covers up closer to his chin, consciousness fading away once more.

 

* * *

 

Early Sunday morning Castiel finally opened his eyes, Friday afternoon still front and center in his mind. He lay there staring at the ceiling, willing the memories to go away while simultaneously going over every detail trying to figure out what he had done wrong. There had to be something, some clue, some reason Balthazar had left. If he could just figure it out, then he could fix it. Then they could get back to normal, back to being together for the rest of their lives.

Since the answers were not revealing themselves yet, he reluctantly rolled out of bed and trudged toward the bathroom. _Shower. Then maybe some food. Or at least coffee. Then… I have no idea._

After the water in the shower began to turn cold, Castiel dragged himself out and threw on a pair of jeans and an old X-men t-shirt that Balthazar always hated. He padded into the kitchen, Gabe immediately handing him a steaming mug of hot coffee. Castiel took it and sat down, forgoing his usual cream and I’ll-have-a-little-coffee-with-my-sugar and sipping the beverage black.

“Thanks for coming over last night, Gabe. And for letting me stay here. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, Cas. But that was 2 days ago, not yesterday.”  Gabriel tried to soften the smirk in his voice.

“Oh.” Castiel thought for a minute, remembering. “Right.”

“Listen, I called your principal and told her you were sick, and got you a sub until Thursday. Let me know if you want to take the week and I’ll call her back. In the meantime, you can stay here as long as you like.”

“No, that’s alright.” Castiel wasn’t sure he could handle more than a few days of being alone with his thoughts, his regrets, his mistakes. He _was_ sure, however, that he absolutely did not want to go home. “Can you go by the condo today and grab some more of my clothes? I can’t go back there.”

“Whatever you need, bro.” Gabriel took his hand and held it until Castiel finally looked up from his coffee. “You know I love you, right?”

Castiel couldn’t get a reply choked out. He didn’t have to, though. He and Gabe sat there in silence, sipping their coffee and flipping through the Sunday paper.

“Hey, looks like there’s a Star Wars marathon on Spike,” Gabriel suggested. “You in?”

“Sounds perfect.”

 _One day at a time_ , he told himself.

 

* * *

 

Castiel returned to Garrison on Thursday, finding World History and American Government lectures and lesson plans a welcome distraction. He spent his free period catching up on grading the tests and homework that had accumulated during the previous week of his comps, decidedly _not_ thinking about the gaping hole in his heart.

Before he knew it his first day back was over. He went home to Gabe and Kali’s and spent the evening grading some more. He was grateful for the huge pile of papers to keep his mind busy. This made sense; it was black or white, right or wrong, yes or no. There were no unknowns. As long as he had homework to grade, he could do this.

Then it was Friday, a whole week since Balthazar had left. Well, actually two if Castiel counted the previous week during which he didn’t even know Balthazar was gone. Eventually two weeks turned into three, then four. He still couldn’t make sense of it all, wasn’t entirely sure he ever would be able to, but at least with each passing week the ache lessened.

He still hadn’t shed any tears over being dumped. Perhaps he was too numb, too disbelieving. Perhaps with Balthazar’s lack of explanation Castiel believed on some level that it wasn’t real, that Balthazar would come back and say he was sorry and they could start over again. Perhaps he was just hoping against hope that the only man he had ever loved wasn’t lying to him about having loved him back.

There were still too many unknowns, too much about this that didn’t make sense. How was he supposed to mourn this relationship and move on when he had no idea why it had ended in the first place?

By late September Castiel was finally ready to go back to the condo. Gabriel had offered to come along for moral support, but Castiel knew this was something he had to do by himself. His hands shook on the drive over, as he parked the car, as he headed up the stairs, as he thumbed through his keys searching for the correct one. It took him several attempts to fit the key in the lock and unlock the door.

At last Castiel stepped inside, and just stood in the foyer, taking everything in. It felt so familiar, yet at the same time so foreign. He had spent so much time here the past two and a half years, yet somehow it no longer felt like home. Maybe it would with time; maybe it never would again.

He tossed his keys onto the entryway table as he had done thousands of times and gazed around the living room. He brushed his fingers across the abstract paintings Balthazar had collected over the years. He studied the bookshelves bearing History and Law textbooks intermingled with knick-knacks they had bought each other.

He sat down on the sofa and ran his hands over the soft fabric, recollecting the day he and Balthazar had picked it out. Castiel hadn’t wanted to buy it because it was almost white and too boxy, but Balthazar had eventually worn him down. It ended up being one of his favorite spots in the condo, after he spent many a cozy night there curled up with Balthazar and a book.

He wandered into the dining room and swept his fingers along glass table, remembering meals the couple shared with Gabriel and Kali, Anna and Michael. He made his way into the kitchen, where Balthazar would make French toast on Sundays and they would sip coffee while they shared the paper. There was Balthazar’s “Make it legal, do it with a lawyer” mug that Gabriel had bought as a gag gift next to Castiel’s “World’s Best Uncle Cas” that the twins had handmade for Christmas. Castiel smiled, recalling that Gabriel’s mug had read “World’s Best Uncle Gabe.”

Castiel finally forced himself enter the bedroom, to confront this most intimate of places where his world had ended. He sat on the bed and caressed the luxury Williams Sonoma bedspread that Balthazar had loved so much. The dresser was adorned with photos of them in their tuxes at Gabe and Kali’s wedding, kissing under the mistletoe at Christmas, getting their faces painted at the twins’ 4th birthday party. The cashmere throw Castiel had bought Balthazar for his birthday last year draped over the chair by the window.

In every room all of these things remained, a timeline of their three years together on every surface, in every nook and cranny. But instead of weaving a tapestry that felt like home to Castiel, they just felt like things now, no longer holding any sentimental value.

And then, as Castiel gazed upon the clock he had bought at the MoMA Store on a weekend getaway with Balthazar to New York, it hit him. It hit him like a punch to the gut, squeezing the air from his lungs and the blood from his heart.

These things, they were all still here. All of Balthazar’s things, the ones he had bought over the past three years as well as the ones that Castiel had given him and the ones they bought together, were all still here.

_He didn’t take any of them. He moved out and left me, and didn’t take any of these things with him. Not a single memento of our time together._

_I gave him everything, and he just left it all behind, like it meant nothing._

Castiel buried his face in the pillow that no longer smelled like Balthazar, and sobbed, willing his heart not to make the final conclusion that it so desperately wanted to express.

_He never loved me._

 

* * *

 

Three days later Castiel received a padded envelope in the mail with no return address. Inside, a single set of keys to the condo. There was no note.


	4. Chapter 4

“I gotta tell you, Cas. I can’t believe it took you this long to decide to sell this place.” Gabriel re-entered the bedroom with two beers, surveying the mess in progress. Strewn about were packing boxes in varying degrees of fullness. Castiel emptied another dresser drawer-full of clothes into a box and grabbed one of the cold bottles.

“Well, when Balthazar sent me his keys it became pretty obvious he wasn’t ever coming back here. And I can’t afford this place on my own,” Castiel admitted, taking a large gulp. The mortgage payment, which was linked to his and Balthazar’s joint account, had caused quite a dent in his finances with the second income gone. “Plus, you know, there’s just too many memories here. I just want to put this behind me now and get on with my life.”

“So, what are you gonna do with all this stuff?” Gabe wondered aloud. “Yard sale? Surely you’re not keeping all of it.”

“No, I never want to see any of it ever again.” The more time that passed since that awful day, the more Castiel was certain that he wanted to leave every piece of furniture, every painting, every keepsake behind. It was time to get a new start, build a new life.

“I talked to the realtor yesterday to see if I could list the condo as ‘furnished’ and sell it all together, but she thought it would sell faster if it was listed as ‘unfurnished’.” He opened another dresser drawer full of clothes and empted it into a box. “So we compromised, and she’s going to list it as ‘furniture available but not included’. That way if prospective owners see anything they like they can negotiate separately. And she put me in touch with some friends of hers who do estate sales, so anything that the new owners don’t want I can just sell at their warehouse. They’ll take care of everything, even moving it all there.”

Castiel returned the empty drawer to the dresser and paused, considering the photos of him and Balthazar that perched on top. The frames were nice enough; maybe he could reuse them. “All I have to do now is clear out the personal stuff like the photos and textbooks and make sure this place is clean enough to start showing.” He could also fill the frames with some generic black and white prints and throw them in the estate sale. Yes, that might work.

“And I will do whatever I can to help you, bro. Like taking all of those law books and burning them. You know,” Gabriel pondered, “it _is_ fall now. Good bonfire weather.”

Castiel huffed out a laugh. “I actually thought about selling them back to the campus bookstore. I could probably get several hundred for them, but to tell you the truth, I just don’t feel like bothering with it. I’ll probably just throw them in the recycle bin.”

“No. No way are you doing that. I’ll take care of it. And then you and me are going out drinking, and we are gonna order the most expensive booze we can find, courtesy of that piece of shit. It’s the least he can do.”

Castiel took another swig of his beer. “That’s fine, as long as I don’t have to deal with it. I don’t want to put any more effort into getting rid of his things than I have to.” He scanned the mess in the room and sighed. “You know, I don’t know what’s more unreal: the fact that I’m packing up my clothes and moving out of my home, or the fact that I’m doing it alone.”

He had always thought that selling the condo and moving would be something he and Balthazar would do in the future, together, once he had his master’s degree and Balthazar made partner. Once they had put the chaos of the past few years behind them.

Gabriel placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You’re not alone, Cas. And I already told you, you can stay with me and Kali as long as it takes, ‘til you find a new place. As long as you don’t use up all the hot water or eat all my Cocoa Puffs, that is.”

 

* * *

 

It was weird. It shouldn’t have been, but it was. Hell, it never was in the past. At least he didn’t think it was; it was kind of hard to remember. But now? It definitely was just plain weird.

Fall break at Garrison had taken Castiel by surprise. Ever since that Big Thing That Happened, Castiel hadn’t spent a single day alone. During the week he had his students and fellow teachers. On weekends he had Gabe and Kali, Anna and Michael. But now he had five whole days off. In the middle of the week. With everyone else at work. And nothing to do. It was weird.

During the past two years fall break just meant more time at the library to catch up on reading for his master’s classes. The year before that Balthazar had just moved in to Cas’ tiny post-graduate apartment and Castiel spent the week de-cluttering so Balthazar would have more space for his things.

Before Balthazar? It seemed like a lifetime ago; he couldn’t even really remember what fall break was like before Balthazar. What he _was_ sure of, though, was that it wasn’t weird.

He tried to read a book. He watched some bad daytime television. He cleaned Gabe & Kali’s house top to bottom. He threw out all of the expired condiments in the fridge and some science experiments in the back that Gabe had apparently forgotten about. He balanced his checkbook. He baked some chocolate chip cookies. He did his, Gabe’s, and Kali’s laundry. He looked at listings for new houses online. He tried two new recipes for dinner.

It was the longest, most awkward day of Castiel’s life.

He was doubly grateful the next day, then, to be sitting at a corner table at Starbucks, grande white mocha in hand, waiting for his realtor to arrive to take him house hunting. He had hoped to get started the previous day, but she was already booked with appointments to show his condo. Perhaps she would arrive with good news, then?

_Come on, get a grip, Castiel. Nothing in life ever comes that easily. Especially to you._

“Morning, Castiel. How’s my favorite client?”

Castiel glanced up at the sound of the familiar voice. The first time he had met with his realtor she was dressed in a crisp tailored pantsuit that may or may not have cost more than his first car. Now she stood before him in a pair of jeans, a vintage Ramones t-shirt, and a leather jacket. _Umm, laundry day, maybe?_

“Hello again, Ms. Barnes.”

“I told you, Castiel. Call me Pamela. So, you feel like buying a house today?”

“I don’t know about that.” He stood up, coffee in hand, and grabbed his old canvas messenger bag; inside was a printout of each property they had discussed viewing, along with his camera and a notebook so he could take copious notes on each one. “But I’m definitely prepared to look.”

Several hours and half a dozen rejects later, Castiel was ready to call it a day; he should have known better than to think anything was going to go his way.

Pamela wasn’t going to let him give up that easily, though. “How about we take a break instead, grab some lunch?”

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ve had enough for one day.”

“Come on, I’m buying. And I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. I know a great little deli not far from the next few houses on the list; what do you say we stop and recharge our batteries and if you still feel like calling it a day after that, I’ll take you back. Sound good?”

Castiel really didn’t think he had it in him to see any more properties, but lunch was starting to sound better and better. “Okay, sounds good.”

They drove back into the city and stopped at a little family-owned deli for sandwiches and sodas. Since they weren’t officially on business at the moment, Castiel decided he couldn’t hold in his curiosity any longer. “I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Why the jeans and leather jacket? Do you always dress like this with clients?”

“No,” she replied, “just the ones I think need to loosen up a bit. You seemed like you were wound way too tight when we first met.” She helped herself to one of the potato chips on his plate. “So what’s your story, huh? Why’re you selling that condo _and_ everything in it?”

Castiel really didn’t want to reveal this still-raw part of himself, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t let it go. He took a deep breath, steeling himself against the inevitable emotional crash to come, and relayed the story about being unceremoniously dumped ( _about my world crumbling down around me, my life ending while I stood by, completely oblivious and helpless_ ) and starting over now at the age of 32. Geez, since when did 32 feel so old?

“Jesus fuck, that’s awful. No wonder you’re eager to get out of there.” She paused a moment, thinking about what he had told her. “So you think you’ll ever see him again?”

He shrugged. “I really don’t know. He could still be in Lawrence, I guess, but I have a feeling he’s moved somewhere else.”

“Well, if you ever find him and you need someone to help you egg his house or slash his tires, you call me.”

“Okay, I will.” He gathered his trash and readied to leave. Maybe he’d still have time to do some baking therapy and forget all about this failure of an outing.

“So, you think you have one more in you, Castiel?”

“Pamela, I appreciate it, but maybe we should just call it a day.”

“Come on. Just one more. I really think you’ll like this one.”

“You said that about the other six,” he grumbled. He pulled the stack of listings from his messenger bag and rifled through them, trying to find which property they had not yet viewed.

“Yeah, but this time I mean it,” she smirked. “This one’s a little different. And it’s not on the list I sent you. But I’ve been watching you today, and I really think this one’s more you. It’s not far from here; we can be there in about five minutes.”

“Fine.” He was getting too worn out to argue. And even if he wasn’t she’d still win. Plus she was his ride back. “Whatever you think is best.”

She wasn’t kidding about the house being close. She also wasn’t kidding about it being different. Exactly five minutes later Castiel exited the car and found himself face to face with a Craftsman-style bungalow, a far cry from the clean lines and contemporary construction of the houses from that morning.

The house wasn’t much to look at from the street, mostly hidden behind a wall of neglected, overgrown shrubs, but upon closer inspection it was actually quite warm and inviting. The color of the siding reminded him of café au lait on a cold sleepy morning, offset by crisp white trim and an ebony front door.

He followed Pamela up the walkway and eyed the sizeable porch while she opened the lockbox and retrieved the keys. It was much larger than it appeared from street view _. It needs a bench,_ he thought. _And maybe a table. Or two._ Suddenly Castiel was picturing himself sitting out here on a balmy summer night, beer in hand, watching the first fireflies dancing about at dusk _. Damn her, she was right. And we’re not even inside yet._

The first thing he noticed inside was the fireplace. Floor-to-ceiling flagstone, it had a chunky wood mantel surrounded by rich honeyed-oak built-in shelving. He couldn’t take his eyes off it, imagining himself curling up in front of it under a blanket, book in hand, firewood crackling. The sofa would go right here. Maybe a leather chair over there. He was practically alphabetizing his book collection on the built-ins when Pamela interrupted his reverie.

“Want to see the rest of the house?”

“Absolutely.”

Warm earth tones, hardwood floors, and natural stained baseboards greeted him in every room. The dining room, wrapped in waist-high wood paneling in the same honey tones as the living room shelves, led to a kitchen that looked like it belonged in a log cabin in the woods. He felt so immediately at peace here, so immediately… at home.

_This is crazy,_ Castiel thought. _We’ve only been looking for one day. Not even one day; it’s been, like, four or five hours. There’s no way this is the one. There’s got to be something wrong with this place, something she’s not telling me._

Pamela led him next to the master suite, where light poured in from the south wall. Two French doors, beset on either side by floor-to-ceiling windows, led to the backyard. The abundance of windows and natural light here didn’t feel cold and impersonal like the condo, though; somehow it gave the room warmth and seemed to bring the outdoors in.

Castiel moved toward the windows, gazing at the yard. He’d never had a backyard before. Like the landscaping in front of the house, it was a little overgrown, but nothing he couldn’t handle. All he needed was a good mower and some clippers, and he’d be ready to barbecue out there, enjoying a cold one with Gabe and Michael, making s’mores with Anna and Kali, playing lawn darts with the twins. Then his gaze fell upon a large tree off to the side. No, make that… half a tree?

“What happened over there?”

Pamela took a deep breath. “Come on, there’s one more thing I need to show you, Castiel.”

_Okay, here we go_. She led him back through the kitchen to the rear of the house, and there it was. The other shoe that had been hanging in the air dropped. The entire back of the house was laid bare, the framing exposed. No drywall, no insulation, the floors bare concrete, everything covered in plastic sheeting. The windows appeared to be finished, at least. “What happened here?”

“Last year, that big oak tree out back was hit by lightning. Split the thing almost in half. Landed right here and took out this big family room. The owners were able to get this much of it fixed, then the contractor split with the rest of their insurance money. They tried doing the work themselves, but then the husband lost his job. Just couldn’t afford to finish this place anymore.”

“Geez, that’s terrible.”

“Tell me about it. The house is solid, though. Had an inspector come through last week, said that the work that’s been done so far is good. The new roof is intact, no leaks around the window framing, and the siding outside is good. It just needs some insulation and drywall in here, some new flooring, coat of paint, and it’s good to go.” Her phone chirped. “Sorry, Castiel. Excuse me for a minute.”

As Pamela chattered away in the background, Castiel thought about this house. The sense of peace, of home, of just… _right…_ had enveloped him from the moment he stepped onto the front porch. It was apparent that whoever had lived here before put so much love, so much of themselves into it. Then this tragic thing took it all away. Even though it would take some work to finish, he just knew. This was it. This place fit.

“Well, I got some good news for you, Castiel. Got an offer on the condo.”

“Are you kidding me? This soon?”

“I told you that place would sell itself. It’s good, too. Almost full asking price. Let me work my magic and I think you’ll have a contract by the end of the week.”

Castiel was taken aback. He hadn’t even wanted to come see this place. Now, somehow, after finding this beautiful house, somewhat battered and slightly broken, the pieces of his battered, broken life seemed to be coming together. Not all of the pieces, and not in the way he would’ve wanted, but it was a start. The start of what, he didn’t know. But at least, for the first time in almost two months, he was willing to find out.

“So, what do you think? You want to make an offer on this place?”

“I do.”

And for the first time in almost two months, Castiel smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

Halloween had long been Dean’s favorite holiday. Sure, Thanksgiving was nice, because there was tons of good food. Sarah’s corn soufflé alone was worth waiting all year for. Christmas was always fun, seeing Ben get excited over whatever big thing he didn’t think he would get but Dean would end up giving in and buying anyway. And Dean would never admit just how much he loved seeing the tree all lit up every year with the handmade ornaments Lisa made during the first Christmas she and Dean lived in their own apartment.

But Halloween? That had always been so much more a family holiday for Dean, Lisa, and Ben than any of the others.

It all started the first year Dean & Lisa were dating. She wanted to go some costume party thing her friend was throwing. Dean thought it would be lame and tried his best to get out of it, but Lisa pulled out the big guns and told Dean that she’d dress up in the Princess Leia bikini if he wore a costume as well. So he went as Han Solo, of course.

From that year on, Dean loved Halloween.

Every year the three Winchesters coordinated their costumes. When Ben was two Dean and Lisa went as Danny Zuko and Sandy Olsson from _Grease_ , with little Ben in a tiny leather jacket and jeans as one of the T-birds. Dean even wore the dorky letter sweater that John Travolta sported at the end of the movie, because Lisa looked pretty damn hot in her skin tight black pants and blonde wig.

Then there was the time they all wore Kiss makeup. Dean, of course, was the Spaceman himself, Ace Frehley, while Lisa rocked Paul Stanley’s Starchild, and Ben made a damn good Demon as Gene Simmons. Ben even used Gene’s own trick of turning his tongue blood red with cherry lifesavers. Then one year Dean convinced Lisa and Ben to dress up as Inara and Wash from _Firefly_ so he could be Mal Reynolds. At every house, instead of the usual “trick or treat,” Ben declared, “I am a leaf on the wind. Watch how I soar.”

Some years they went around the neighborhood trick-or-treating, sometimes they went to a party. But whatever they did for the holiday, they were a family. Over the years the mantel above the fireplace became filled with family photos of Dean, Lisa, and Ben in their costumes. Dean knew it was silly, but it was their thing, you know? And they didn’t have to be serious or touchy-feely or whatever; it wasn’t a “chick flick moments” kind of holiday. They just got to be goofy and act like kids again.

This year, though, Dean had been dreading Halloween. It was on a Thursday, which was one of Lisa’s days. He had tried to convince Lisa to switch just this once, but she was adamant. She did agree to let Ben stay with Dean for an extended Thanksgiving weekend, so that was something, but it still meant that Dean was going to be completely alone for what had long been his favorite family holiday.

He was grateful, then, that Sam invited him to spend the night trick-or-treating with him, Sarah, and Blake. It wouldn’t be the same, not by a long shot, but it would be far better than spending the night alone with Jim or Jack.

Sarah became hell-bent on going to this trick-or-treating thing in downtown Lawrence. Apparently all of the businesses along this one stretch of Massachusetts Street would open up their shops to trick-or-treaters, and there promised to be local musicians and artists as well. Dean had heard of it but had never been, so despite his initial dread of the holiday he actually started to look forward to it a tiny bit. Plus this would be the first year that Blake would actually know what was going on. Watching her ask strangers for candy would prove to be plenty entertaining.

When he arrived at Sam and Sarah’s late that afternoon he was greeted at the door by Sarah wearing a bright aqua wig, red sweatpants, and a red sweatshirt. Across the front of her shirt was a white paperboard circle with the words “Thing 2.”

Dean doubled over with laughter. Oh, this was gonna be good. “Does this mean Sam is Thing 1?”

Sarah flashed him a smirk. “Yes, it does.”

“How in the hell did you convince him? He knows we’re going out in public, right?”

Sam poked his head out from the kitchen, and sure enough, he was sporting the same aqua wig and red suit. “Actually, it was my idea, Dean.”

Before Dean could even begin to process that tidbit, he was interrupted by Blake running toward him wearing black pants, a white shirt with black sleeves, and a red bow around her neck. She was holding a red striped top hat that was almost as tall as she was.

“Unca Dean! Unca Dean! I’m Cat inna Hat!” She donned the hat and posed, hands on her hips.

“You are? But where’s Blake? I really wanted to spend Halloween going trick-or-treating with my Doodlebug.” Dean tried to muster up his best sad face.

“Unca Dean! Iss me! I’m Bake!” Blake immediately took the hat off, extremely concerned that her favorite uncle didn’t recognize her. “See? Iss just pe-tend!”

Dean had to fight to keep a straight face. “Whew. You had me scared there for a minute. I didn’t think I’d get to do this.” He picked her up and blew raspberries across her belly in his typical greeting. She squirmed and giggled uncontrollably, her usual response.

“So, Dean,” Sarah began, “where is your costume?”

“I’m not doing one this year. I’m just along for the ride.”

“No costume, no candy. That’s the rules,” Sam declared.

“Oh, come on. Not this year,” Dean pleaded. “Please?”

 

* * *

 

Thirty minutes later the group exited the car and made their way toward Massachusetts Street, with Sam and Sarah in their red Thing 1 and Thing 2 outfits, Blake as the Cat in the Hat holding both their hands and swinging, and Dean with “Ninjas stole my costume” scrawled in black magic marker across the front of his t-shirt. Dean still couldn’t help but laugh every time he laid eyes on his brother. If he hadn’t seen the ridiculous sight with his own eyes he never would’ve believed it.

As they neared the already large crowd of Halloweeners, Dean started to feel slightly underdressed, because holy shit, these were some of the most elaborately costumed trick-or-treaters Dean had ever seen. Even he, Lisa, and Ben in some of their more creative collaborations would have been put to shame here. He felt a twinge of melancholy, wishing that he had gotten to experience this with Lisa and Ben as a family. They really would have enjoyed this.

“Dean, are you okay?” Sarah asked softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Fuck, was he that transparent? _Of course you are, idiot. That’s why they invited you._

Dean plastered on a smile that was as close to 1,000 watts as he could muster. “I’m great! So, we ready to get some candy, or what?”

“Yay!” Blake jumped up and down, clearly on board with that idea. She started off toward the nearest shop, pulling her parents along. “Dis way! Less go!”

Dean made a vow right then and there that he was not going to get depressed over Lisa tonight. It had been over seven months, after all. This was his life now, for better or worse. And things could be worse, really they could. Sam was successful in getting Dean’s custody arrangement altered, so Dean had his son every weekend now. They had even worked it out around his new job with Benny, so that was good.

Spending the rest of his time missing someone who clearly didn’t want to be with him anymore was just a waste. He had a lot he should be grateful for, and he ought to start enjoying himself. Tonight was going to be all about making sure that his niece had the time of her life. He followed Doodlebug and her dorky parents toward the first store, his smile a tiny bit more genuine now.

After the first few stops, Dean started to rethink his earlier assessment. This wasn’t just an elaborate event; everyone just plain went all-out. Nearly every store was decorated top to bottom, every employee handing out candy and trinkets in costume. One coffee shop was even decorated like a kid-friendly haunted house. Dean and Sam were a little apprehensive about the scary-factor for a 2-year old, but Blake just ran right in and giggled the entire time.

By the time they reached the end of the strip and crossed the street to head back, Blake’s little plastic jack-o-lantern bucket was nearly full. The kid was making out like a bandit. Of course, it was probably due to the way she proclaimed, “Tick oh teet! I’m Cat inna Hat!” to everyone she passed. And hearing her say, “Fank you!” as they exited every store was quite possibly the cutest thing Dean had ever seen.

 _If that kid gets any more charming, poor Sammy is gonna be in big trouble,_ Dean thought. _Especially when she hits high school_. He shook his head, watching fondly as Blake explained her costume to the owner of Klein’s Barber Shop, when he heard a familiar voice.

“Dad?”

He turned around to see Ben in a black and white striped suit, with white face paint and a white wig. “Hey, buddy!” It took him a moment to shake off the confusion over seeing Ben before he recognized the outfit. “Beetlejuice?”

“Yeah! You like it?”

“You look awesome, dude!” He gave his son a huge hug. Fuck, it was good to see him. But if he was here, then that meant…

“Hello, Dean.” There she was, his ex-wife, dressed up in the most god-awful floral dress with poufy sleeves he had ever seen.

“Lisa! What are you doing here?” Okay, now what? Were they supposed to hug? Shake hands?

“Just, you know, trick-or-treating.” She gestured toward a guy Dean hadn’t even noticed. He was wearing khakis and a black and white plaid shirt, and holding the hand of a girl about Ben’s age who was dressed in a red lacy prom dress looking thing. “Um, this is Warren, and his daughter Amy. Guys, this is Dean, Ben’s father.”

After exchanging awkward handshakes with Lisa’s friend and his daughter, Dean looked at the four of them together. Lisa and this Warren guy dressed as country bumpkins. The girl wearing the red lace dress. Ben as Beetlejuice. Suddenly it hit him, like a punch to the gut. Lisa and Warren were Barbara and Adam Maitland, and Amy was Lydia Deetz. All four of them were characters from Beetlejuice.

They were wearing coordinated costumes.

Like a family.

He and Lisa have only been divorced seven months, and now she has a new family? Was this really what was going on?

Sam apparently noticed it too, because he cleared his throat to break the tension. “Hey, Dean, I, uh, think we’d better head back. It’s getting a little late for Blake here.” Dean didn’t think he’d ever been as grateful to his brother as he was right then. He just couldn’t even begin to process this right now. And if Dean weren’t so caught off guard at the sudden turn of events, he would totally make fun of Sam for trying to be serious while still wearing that aqua wig. As it was, though, he just nodded.

“Yeah, sure.” He followed Sam and Sarah back to the car in a daze.He wasn’t really sure what he said as a goodbye, because _what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck_ was on repeat in his brain drowning everything else out.

 

* * *

 

“When are you gonna get some furniture in here? It looks like a warehouse.” Gabriel set the pizza box down on the kitchen counter and rifled through the kitchen cabinets for plates. There were only a few, and those were mismatched. “And what happened to all your good dishes?” He grabbed a blue ceramic dinner plate and handed Cas a white one with a chip in the rim.

“Sold them in the estate sale. The complete sets, at least. I took the random leftover ones that nobody wanted. They were mostly mine from college, anyway.” Castiel grabbed a slice of pizza and leaned over the kitchen island counter to eat. “And I do have furniture,” he scowled.

“You have a sofa and a bed. That hardly qualifies as ‘furniture’.”

“Well,” Castiel shrugged, “what can I say? I’m sort of new at this. I want to take my time, make sure I get stuff I like.”

“What do you mean, you’re new at this? You bought half the stuff in that condo, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but Balthazar picked it all out. That whole place, it was all him.” Castiel sighed. “I want this place to be me.”

After his closing, Castiel had been eager to move out of his brother’s guest room and into his new home. But with all of his old furniture sold, he had to get new stuff before he could spend the night there, and he dreaded furniture shopping. He had always been a very deliberate shopper, spending weeks comparing the same item in dozens of different stores and on twice as many web sites, thoroughly researching consumer reviews and price comparisons. It had driven Balthazar crazy when they were furnishing the condo, which is why Castiel had finally relented and stepped out of the process altogether.

Now that it was just him making all the decisions, he found himself second-guessing every piece he laid eyes on. It was a miracle and a half that he found the two pieces that he did, and then he immediately felt buyer’s remorse after purchasing them. Once they were delivered and he was finally settled into his home, however, he knew he had made the right choices. Still, he was not eager to repeat the process any time soon. He had what he needed for the time being.

“So how much did you get from that estate sale, anyway?”

“Just over 8 grand.” Castiel watched his brothers eyes boggle. “I thought it would be more, actually, but to tell you the truth I’m just glad it’s all gone. And it was enough to get me started here.”

“Well, if you need any help, I’ll be glad to take you shopping, although, Kali’s got more of an eye for that sort of thing than I do.”

“That’s quite alright, Gabe,” Castiel snickered, remembering the mustard yellow velvet monstrosity of a barcalounger from his brother’s bachelor apartment. “I, uh… I don’t think you and I have quite the same taste in furniture.”

“Hey, that chair was comfortable and you know it,” Gabriel countered, knowing exactly what ‘taste’ Castiel had been referring to. “I seem to remember you spending the night in that chair a time or two back in college. You know how much you loved that thing.”

“I passed out drunk and almost landed on the floor. Having that chair break my fall and waking up with penises drawn all over my face hardly qualifies as me ‘loving’ that thing.”

Gabriel laughed at the memory. “Yeah, it took you a week to get that ink off.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” If there were one memory he would like to erase completely from his brain, it would be walking into his Globalization History class at KU the following Monday morning with the ink still there. He stayed out “sick” the rest of the week until it finally wore off. “Where did you get that marker from anyway?”

“My buddy Allen stole it from his dad’s office. He was a plastic surgeon. It was one of those markers they use to draw on people before surgery.”

Castiel just shook his head. “Jesus, Gabe.”

“One of my better pranks,” Gabriel replied with a wink. “Seriously, though. At some point we’re gonna be able to eat at a table, right? Sitting down, with chairs and everything?”

“Yes, I will eventually buy more furniture. If you really want to help, though, I could use some help in finishing off the back rooms.” Castiel had already located an electrician who could complete the wiring when he was ready. Next on the list was researching insulation and drywall installation. He knew nothing about either of those, save for the fact that he wanted to do the work himself and that he would need help. Preferably someone who knew what they were doing, but he’d take what he could get. “I also need to find a tree removal service to get rid of the rest of that oak tree in the backyard.”

“That I can help you with. I know a guy.” Gabriel pulled out his phone and scrolled though the contacts. “Now, construction, not so much. Look at these hands; I’m too delicate for manual labor.”

Castiel polished off the last of his dinner and watched as Gabe looked for the phone number. This was such a typical, ordinary thing, sharing a pizza with his brother on a Friday night. They had done it hundreds of times over the years, reliving the events of their week or bullshitting about nothing. But now, here in this practically empty house where there were no tables or chairs, where Castiel still kept his underwear in a suitcase because he didn’t have a dresser yet, where the whole back of the house didn’t even have walls or a floor, it felt different. Special. Maybe even a tiny bit momentous. It felt like the start of something new. And finally Castiel was looking forward to seeing what that something was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like Café Beautiful in the first chapter is a real restaurant in Lawrence, the Massachusetts Street trick-or-treating event is also a real thing:
> 
> [2010 Lawrence Journal-World Gallery](http://www2.ljworld.com/photos/galleries/2010/nov/01/downtown-trick-or-treat-event/)
> 
> [2011 Gallery](http://www2.ljworld.com/photos/galleries/2011/oct/31/trick-or-treat-downtown-halloween-2011/)  
>    
> [2013 Gallery](http://www2.ljworld.com/photos/galleries/2013/oct/31/trick-or-treat-downtown-lawrence/)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an early update for you lovelies, since I likely won't be able to post again until at least after Easter. As always, feedback is much appreciated, since I'm still struggling to finish writing this thing.
> 
> Warning for this chapter for alcohol as a coping mechanism.

Dean parked his Impala in front of the address Benny had texted him. Spending his Saturdays with Benny turned out not to be so bad after all. Benny was a good guy and he knew his shit, and Dean was grateful as hell for this job. Plus being outside all day, even with the slight November chill, always put Dean in a good mood.

He'd barely exited the car when his phone rang. Hopefully Benny wasn’t running late; Dean wanted to get a move on with this job so he could have a little time to clean up before he picked Ben up later. The caller ID said differently, though. Dean grumbled as the words “ex-wife” flashed across the screen; Dean removed her name from his contact list the day after he met her new boyfriend.

“Winchester.” He knew his standard business call greeting was a little callous, but he didn’t care. He just didn’t have it in him to greet her warmly today.

“Dean? It’s Lisa.” She sounded nervous. “Um, do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, but just a minute. I’m kinda working.” He had no idea what this was about, but he knew it couldn’t be good, whatever it was. She almost never called.

“I don’t really know how to say this, so I’m just gonna say it.” She let out a breath. “Warren and I are getting married.”

He was right, this wasn’t good. Shock and surprise took swirled in his brain, drowning out any and all coherent thought. Then anger flooded in, and he found his voice again. They’ve only been divorced eight months for Christ’s sake. “What the fuck, Lisa?”

“He’s a good man, Dean. He proposed last night, I said yes. I though you should know first before we tell the kids.”

Too many questions swirled in his brain, creating chaos that he wasn’t sure he would ever find his way out of. How long had she and this Warren been together, anyway? Did this start while she and Dean were still married? Was he the reason they got divorced?

_And, if he’s a good man, what does that make me?_

“Why are you telling me this now?” He could barely contain the tight fury in his voice. Her timing was for shit. How dare she lay this on him when he’s working? Cutting down a tree wasn’t exactly easy, and now his concentration would be shot.

“I wanted you to know first instead of hearing it from Ben later. Look, I know this is a difficult situation for you, and I’m sorry. But I love Warren, and I’m going to marry him. I thought you should know.”

He knew he should just let it go, just leave it at that, but he had to twist the knife in his gut a little further. “How long have you been seeing him?”

“Dean, I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”

“How long, Lisa?” There was no way he was letting her off the hook, not on this.

“That’s none of your…”

“Twelve years, Lisa. Twelve years we were together, and you’re already getting remarried? There’s no way in hell you just met this guy and decided to get married. How long have you been with him?” He knew deep down that whether she hooked up with this guy before the divorce or after, it wouldn’t really matter. Neither answer would satisfy him. But he still had to know.

There was a long pause. He waited it out, listening to her breathing. At last her voice came back over the line, small and timid. “Nothing happened, Dean. Nothing happened until after we were divorced. I swear to you, I swear to you on Ben’s life nothing happened.”

What she’d left unsaid was hanging in the air.

_Nothing happened, because you and I were still married._

_Nothing happened, but it could have._

_Nothing happened, but I wanted it to._

While she was still married to Dean, telling him she loved him, fucking him, telling him she supported him, sharing family dinners and helping Ben with his homework and playing stupid board games on Friday night, there was this other guy she wanted to be with and do all those things with instead. Some other guy that she was talking to, flirting with, sharing her hopes and dreams with, wishing that she could be with instead of Dean. So what was it, he wondered? What was the final straw that made her cut and run and shatter Dean’s heart into a million pieces?

For now, he decided, he didn’t want to know, because it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. “Okay. We done here? I have work to do.”

“Yeah, Dean. Take care, okay?”

He sniffed out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, sure.” He fought the urge to throw the phone against the hard asphalt. Watching it smash to bits would be mildly satisfying, but he needed his phone for work and getting a new one would be too much of a hassle. Lisa wasn’t worth it.

He scrubbed his hands across his face, fighting the urge to punch something to vent his anger and frustration. The nearest punchable thing was the Impala, though, and there was no way he was destroying his baby over his ex-wife. Lisa _really_ wasn’t worth that.

“Rough morning?” Benny asked as he exited his truck.

“You have no idea.” Dean let out a deep breath, still stunned. “My ex-wife,” he answered to Benny’s questioning cocked eyebrow.

“Say no more,” Benny replied, handing Dean a cup of his favorite Pike Place roast from Starbucks. “Here, maybe this’ll help.”

“Thanks, man.” Dean took a long gulp, letting the hot liquid burn away the last few minutes. “She’s getting remarried,” he quietly told Benny.

“Well, I never met the woman, but she’s an idiot if she thinks there’s a better guy out there than you, brother,” Benny replied, clapping his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean felt his face soften into a bit of a smile. That was a really nice fucking thing to say, and even if it felt like a lie, he knew Benny was being sincere.

 _You know what, though? Fuck it. Fuck her._ After eight months of trying to get over her, he was done. It was time to start a new chapter, or turn over a new leaf, or what-the-fuck-ever.

“Alright, let’s get to work.” Dean turned towards the house as the rest of the guys pulled up. “So, what’s this job today?”

 

* * *

 

Castiel awoke with a start and nearly fell out of his bed. _What the hell was that noise?!_ Slowly the early morning brain fog lifted and he remembered. _Oh, yeah. That’s right._ Today was the day Benny and his crew were coming to remove the oak tree. After spending the previous days grading mid-terms virtually nonstop, Castiel had almost forgotten. Well, not almost. He _had_ forgotten, apparently.

Castiel had been a little uneasy about having the remainder of the tree removed, especially considering the damage it did to the house when the first half of it came down. But Benny’s amiable attitude and assurances about his years of experience put Castiel a little more at ease. Plus Benny’s familiar Louisiana drawl reminded Castiel of his own late mother. Cas would always have a soft spot for Cajuns.

What finally sealed the deal, though, was when Benny also assured Castiel that one of his workers would be able to reclaim the lumber from the tree and reuse it for one of his carpentry projects. Castiel liked the idea that somewhere, something beautiful would one day come from the jagged remains of the tree that had once destroyed part of his home.

Castiel raised his head off the pillow and glanced over through the French doors to his right, squinting at the harsh sunlight. Benny and one of his workmen were gesturing wildly at the tree and pointing around the yard, definitively confirming Castiel’s suspicions regarding the source of the racket that had so rudely woken him up at such an ungodly hour on a Saturday.

 _Why in God’s name do they have to get here so early?_ He suddenly realized that his bedroom’s entire south wall was basically one giant curtainless window to the backyard, and glanced down to make sure he was still under the covers _. And thank God I don’t sleep nude. Well… anymore._

He sat up and looked at the alarm clock on his recently-acquired nightstand. Not quite 9 a.m. _Yeah, definitely too early._ Castiel glanced back out the window again, willing the sunlight to wake him up further. Benny seemed to come to some sort of agreement with his friend and walked back toward the gate to the front yard. The other man turned his back to the window and ran his hands through his hair, giving Castiel a brief glimpse of a dirty white t-shirt and a well-worn pair of Levis framing one of the most magnificently-sculpted backsides Castiel had ever seen. _Mmm. Never too early for that, though. Hello, there, handsome._

Castiel stood up and watched as Benny’s friend and his gorgeous backside headed toward the gate to help Benny carry the equipment _._ He stretched his sleep-stiff muscles, suddenly catching a whiff of the stench emanating from the general vicinity of his armpits, and groaned. The show in the backyard would have to wait. _Shower first. Caffeine second. Then we can go watch hot guys play with power tools._

Twenty minutes later Castiel followed the fastest shower in the west with the fastest pot of coffee his percolator could manage. He haphazardly threw in some cream and sugar and took his mug outside to greet Benny and see how things were going. He knew it was silly to be nervous, that Benny knew what he was doing, but still it was worrisome. He hadn’t been in this house very long, but it was home now, and the thought that one false move could send this tree though his roof for a second time was nerve-wracking, to say the least.

Cas was most decidedly _not_ nervous about seeing the hot guy in the Levis up close, though. Not in the slightest little bit.

He was still getting over a breakup, after all; plus, he had never really asked a guy out before. Asking Balthazar to lunch that day at the grocery store three years ago didn’t really count, since he and Balthazar had previously dated in college. Plus there was no way that Mr. Levis would be single and gay, anyway, right? So there was no need to be anxious about going outside. Nope, none at all.

Still, Castiel’s hands shook slightly when he opened the back door and stepped outside, making him spill coffee down the front of his shirt. _Perfect, Castiel. Now your day is complete._

“Mornin’, Mr. Milton. Hope we didn’t wake you?” Benny sauntered over to the back door to greet Castiel.

“No problem, Benny. And please, call me Castiel.” Castiel wiped the spilled coffee off his hands onto his jeans and shook Benny’s outstretched hand. “I’m just glad you were able to fit me in today.”

Castiel followed as Benny motioned him over to the rear of the backyard, a safe distance away from the work in progress. He watched, amazed, as one of the workers climbed higher in the tree to tie a rope around one of the branches and cut it free with his chainsaw. The branch fell, hanging securely by the rope, and was slowly lowered and pulled free by the hot guy in the Levis. “This is remarkable. And you said your guy can really reuse all this wood?”

“Not all of it, no. The branches we’ll grind up for mulch. But we’ve got a chainsaw mill we can use to slice up most of what’s left into boards for him. They’ll have to sit and dry for a few months, but then he can build with ‘em.”

“What kind of carpentry does he do?” Castiel began wondering which one of the workers in his yard would be the one taking his tree home. He was not, in the slightest, hoping that it would be Mr. Levis, who was bending over to untie another felled branch and _Holy Christ,_ Castiel thought _, would you look at that ass!_ His mind was suddenly filled with images of that ass in a tool belt, sans Levis, installing drywall in Castiel’s den. _Hey, it could happen._

“Well, he’s a general contractor, but his specialty is custom cabinetry and woodwork. You should see the built-ins he put in my buddy’s house.” Benny gestured towards Mr. Levis, who was watching closely as the next branch was about to be cut down. “That’s him, over there. Man’s an artist.”

“Hey, Benny,” the hot guy called out over his shoulder. “You talking about me back there?”

Castiel had already been planning on inquiring whether he could hire Mr. Levis to help him finish off the back rooms when the hot carpenter turned around with a smile. Suddenly any and all thoughts about asking for the guy’s contact information went away as the face attached to the white t-shirt and Levis registered, and Castiel’s heart stopped.

_Oh, fuck._

_Oh, fuck._

_Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh fuck._

_Christ, it can’t be._

Castiel’s eyes locked with the other man’s, and saw the other man’s smile fade and eyes widen as recognition overtook his features.

_Dean Winchester. Holy Mother of God, it’s Dean Winchester. In my backyard._

Castiel took a deep breath and willed his hands to stop shaking. For a brief moment he was thankful that he had already spilled most of his coffee on his way out the door earlier, because there was no way he would give Dean Fucking Winchester the satisfaction of seeing him accidentally pour coffee on himself right then. No way in hell. He plastered on the best smile he could manage and turned toward Benny.

“Thank you for your time, Benny, but you’ll have to excuse me. I should get back to grading those midterms.” He was surprised at the degree of control in his voice as he spoke.

“No problem, brother. I’ll holler at you when we’re done.” Benny’s eyes narrowed the slightest little bit before he replied, but Castiel couldn’t worry whether Benny was assessing the veracity of his statement. Cas just wanted to get the hell out of there.

He debated whether to wave at Dean and the rest of the crew as he went inside, faking a confidence he knew he no longer had, but Dean had already busied himself with the next branch. Castiel made a beeline for his kitchen and threw his mug down on the edge of the counter, barely noticing when it teetered onto the floor and shattered. He paced the floor, scrubbing his hands across his face.

 _Dean Fucking Winchester. Of all the people that could’ve showed up in my yard today, why did it have to be him?_ He knew, deep down on some level, in some hopefully-still- thinking-logically part of his brain, that what Dean had done to him was over fifteen years ago. He really wanted it to not affect him anymore. He really did. But he also wanted to yell. He wanted to scream. He wanted to curl up on the floor and cry. He wanted to punch something. Or someone.

He wanted Dean to leave.

No, scratch that. He really wanted Dean to have never shown up at all. _Haven’t I been through enough for one freaking year? Is the universe mad at me? Kick Castiel while he’s down, is that it? Of all the people that I never wanted to see again, why him?_

He picked up his phone to call Gabriel but stopped before he dialed the number. Gabriel was the one person Castiel had told about the things Dean had said and done to him back in high school; if there was one person he could turn to now it would be Gabe. But Gabe had already done so much for Castiel these past few months. Did Castiel really want to lean on his brother even more? Or would that just further prove that Dean had been right about the cruel, horrible things he had said all those years ago?

Castiel slid his phone into his back pocket and eyed his car keys sitting on the counter. He could get out of here, maybe go for a drive. Just for a little bit, to clear his head. _Tempting, but no_ , he finally decided. _I am not going to be evicted from my own home just because that jackass showed his face here. He may have bullied the sixteen-year-old me, but not now. Not today._

He snatched the dustpan and brush from under the sink and methodically cleaned up the shattered remains of his coffee mug from the floor, grabbed a replacement mug from the cabinet and poured himself another cup of coffee, the cream-and-sugar ritual calming his nerves. It was probably time to finish grading those midterms anyway. He picked up the remaining papers from the coffee table in the living room and settled down in his current favorite spot on the sofa, trying his best to ignore the noise emanating from the back yard.

Several hours later Castiel was finally nearing the bottom of the stack of exams when he heard a knock at the door. His heart hammered in his chest for a moment as he set his papers down and crossed the living room. _Stop it, Castiel. You’re not 16 anymore; you’re 32. You can answer the door in your own freaking house._ Fortunately, it was only Benny.

“Hey, brother. We’re wrapping up here. Got some papers for you to sign.”

“Of course, Benny. Please come in.”

Benny gave a low whistle as he looked around the still-sparse living room. “Nice place you got here. That woodwork, pretty impressive. Dean would love that.”

Castiel decided to ignore the last comment. “I just recently moved in, so I’m still getting settled here. So, what do you have for me?”

Benny handed over a copy of the contract for Castiel to sign as well as the final bill. “I sure appreciate you calling me. Be sure to thank Gabe for referring you to me. Your brother, man, he’s something else.”

Castiel huffed out a laugh as he handed over a check. “I’ll have to agree with you there.”

“Thanks a lot. We’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes.” Benny ripped off a copy of the bill and handed it to Castiel. “Listen, Dean had to take off, but he said to tell you goodbye. Said you guys used to know each other.”

 _Yeah, that’s one way to put it_. “Yes, we went to high school together.” Castiel was starting to wonder whether Benny had noticed the flash of recognition that had passed between him and Dean and was trying to bait him, or whether the man was just making conversation.

Benny gave a slight smirk. “I can imagine Dean in high school. Bet he was a troublemaker, huh?”

“It was a long time ago.” Cas was getting uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was heading. He tried to usher Benny toward the door. Fortunately the man followed.

Benny stopped in the doorway, eyes far away. “He’s a good guy, Dean. Had a rough year, but he’s one tough bastard, you know?”

“I’m sure he is.” Castiel placed his hand on the front door, willing Benny to exit fully so he could shut it and be done with this.

“Well, thanks again, brother. I’ll get out of your way. Call again if you need anything.”

Castiel shut the door, glad this part of his day was finally over. He pulled out his phone and didn’t hesitate to call Gabriel this time.

“Hey, bro,” Gabriel answered. “What’s up?”

“You want to go out and get drunk tonight?”

“Sure. What are we celebrating?”

“The fact that high school is over. You in?”

“Pff. Like I need an excuse to go out drinking with you. I love drunk you. I’m in.”

 

* * *

 

After that hellish morning, Dean was completely convinced that God did exist after all, because it was a miracle and a half that he didn’t kill himself with a wayward tree branch or cut off a limb with a chainsaw. The phone call from Lisa had been bad enough, but he had managed to shake it off and actually start to enjoy the job. Then the owner of the fucking house turned out to be goddamn Castiel Milton.

Yes, God did exist, and He had a pretty fucking depraved sense of humor.

Dean barely survived getting the remainder of that tree down and gave Benny some excuse about having to leave right away. He wasn’t really sure what he had said, to be honest, he just knew that his hands were shaking so badly he’d need another miracle to make it home alive without crashing his car into a pole.

It took him three tries to get the key in his front door before he made it inside. Thankfully he still had a bottle left in the liquor cabinet; Jack Daniels had been his original date for Halloween after all, before Sam’s invitation. He downed one shot, the burn barely registering in his throat. He drank a second, his hands starting to calm down. He picked up his phone to call Sam before he drank any more.

“Hello?”

“Sammy? I need a favor.”

“Sure thing, Dean. Is something wrong?”

“I can’t talk right now. Just, can Ben stay with you and Sarah tonight? Something just happened, and I can’t, I just can’t…”

“Dean, slow down. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, Sam. I’m fucking losing it, here.”

“Dean, tell me what happened.” Sam’s voice was starting to tremble. Dean knew he was probably scaring the shit out of his brother, but he couldn’t tell Sam about this. Sam didn’t know anything about this, and there was no way in hell Dean was ever telling him. Dean wasn’t sure he could even put it into words right now anyway.

“It’s Lisa. She’s getting married,” Dean lied. Okay, technically it was true, but Sam didn’t have to know that’s not what Dean was freaking out about.

“Jesus, I’m sorry.” Sam almost sounded relieved, like he had expected Dean to confess that he shot someone and needed help hiding the body. “Yeah, absolutely. Sarah and I can watch Ben tonight. Do I need to pick him up at her place?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Sam.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” Dean hung up and grabbed the bottle. He knew it was probably too early in the day to keep drinking, but there was no way he’d be able to process what had just happened while sober. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it drunk either, but he’d sure give it a try.

Shit, the way Cas had looked at Dean in the backyard earlier? Just stabbed him in the fucking heart. If Dean had ever tried to convince himself before that Castiel had forgotten all about what happened back in high school, well that theory was now shot to hell. There was fear in Castiel’s eyes, with a pretty big dose of shame and embarrassment. Dean hated the fact that he inspired that look on someone’s face.

Castiel Milton. Jesus, what were the fucking chances? High school ended fifteen years ago and he hadn’t seen the guy one single time since. So why now?

Maybe God was just punishing him. He had been pretty shitty to Cas back in high school, so maybe Lisa leaving him and getting engaged to some other guy _eight fucking months later_ was his punishment. Seeing Cas was merely the final F-you from The Powers That Be, a little reminder as to what he was being punished for.

Yeah, there was a God after all.

There was a God, and He hated Dean Winchester.

It was the only explanation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. I promise things will get better!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little backstory for you. Warnings for homophobic language and verbal bullying.

 

Castiel had always known he was gay. There was never any doubt. Just like his straight friends had never had to question their attraction to the opposite sex, Castiel never questioned his attraction to guys. It just was. His mom knew it, his siblings knew it, his friends knew it. The ones who mattered didn’t mind, and they figured it out without him having to say anything. He never came out; it just _was_.

He still wasn’t allowed to date, not until he was 16. Family rule. When the big 1-6 finally rolled around at the beginning of his junior year, there was a guy Cas sort of liked. Asking a guy out on a date was pretty scary, though, so he waited. For the right time. Because the perfect right time was bound to pop up eventually, right? Then Samandriel would say yes and they would go out to dinner and then the movies. They would fall madly in love and live happily ever after.

But that never happened. Instead, Dean Winchester happened.

Dean had barely been on Castiel’s radar the first two years of high school. Of course Cas knew who Dean was; everybody knew who Dean was. He was the coolest, best-looking guy in school, the one all the girls wanted to date and the one all the guys wanted to be. But his path rarely crossed Castiel’s. They never had any classes together, never hung out in the same social circles, never participated in the same clubs – I mean, did Dean even _do_ clubs? He was _way_ too cool for that.

Cas and Dean never said one word to each other the entire first two years of high school. But somewhere around junior year, not too long after the motorcycle accident that left Dean with a broken arm, Dean apparently decided that Cas was the worst thing to happen to Lawrence High.

It started out small. Dean would give Cas a little shove in the hallway as they passed each other. A “freak” here or a “weirdo” there. It was slightly annoying, but Cas ignored him. Then Dean started with the gay slurs – homo, faggot, queer. Castiel was only a little bothered, and mostly ignored it. He _was_ gay, after all; while the terminology was a little offensive, Dean _was_ technically right.

At least, that’s what Cas told himself at first. Then Dean’s friends decided to join in the torment as well.

After 6 months or so, Castiel’s resolve to ignore Dean and his cronies started to wear down. After all, there were only so many times a guy could ignore being called a dirty queer or an ugly fag before it started to get to him. And as much as Cas didn’t want to give Dean the satisfaction, it _was_ getting to him. He never did ask Samandriel out. Why give Dean even more ammunition, after all?

No, Cas decided, he would just keep his head down as much as possible and just try to get through the rest of the year. Then he would go to junior prom with his friends, have a great time no matter what names were thrown his way, and soon after it would be summer and he wouldn’t have to see Dean or the others for almost three whole months. He could do it.

The prom, though. To say it wasn’t quite the magical night Castiel thought it would be was an understatement. Okay, so his sister Anna was his date, so it wasn’t going to be _that_ kind of magical, but still. He and Anna had always been such good friends and made each other laugh.

Anna was beautiful, he had to admit, with her flowing, fiery red hair and curve-hugging emerald green dress. Cas didn’t look half bad in his tuxedo, either, he thought. It was going to be a great night. It had to be. And it was, mostly. That is, until it wasn’t.

Castiel and Anna danced, they laughed, they had their portrait taken. Then as they left the photographer, Cas spotted Dean across the ballroom. Or, rather, he spotted Dean staring at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, as if Castiel’s mere presence in the same room was offensive somehow.

 _Please_ , Cas thought. _Not tonight. Not here._ Before he could dwell on it any further, though, Anna pulled him back on to the dance floor and thoughts of Dean were pushed to the back burner for the time being.

As he and Anna readied to leave, Cas excused himself to the men’s room. A simple activity he had performed without thinking several times a day since he was three. In retrospect, though, if he could have changed one thing in his entire life, relived one moment of one day, unraveled one loose thread, this would have been it. If he had only known what was about to happen, he would never have gone to the men’s room before leaving the prom.

Of course, Dean was in there. Castiel took one look at him and almost turned around to leave, but his bladder had other plans for him. He finished up as quickly as he could manage. He washed his hands. He heard a faint little _hmph_ behind him. He turned around. The words he heard next would haunt him for the next fifteen plus years of his life; he still remembered them as if he heard them yesterday.

“So, your sister, huh? That’s quite a date you scored there. What, none of your fag friends wanted to go with you?”

“Dean, please,” Castiel started. “Please, just…”

“Want to know why no one else wanted to go with you, Cas? Because you’re nothing but a dirty, filthy queer. No one’s ever gonna want to go out with you. No one’s ever gonna love you. No one even wants you around, Cas. Nobody wants you around.”

It shouldn’t have hurt Cas as much as it did. He should have been able to ignore it and forget it like he did all the other times. But he couldn’t; it was too much. One slander too many.

All those times before, he just walked away, wondering what he had said or done in his life to make someone hate him so much. This time, however, he stood there looking at Dean and thought for the first time that maybe, just maybe, Dean was right. Maybe no one was ever going to love him. Maybe nobody did want him around. Maybe Dean had been saying all these things not to be mean, but because they were true. It was the only explanation.

He felt the tears begin to well up and ran out of there before the first one fell. He never told Anna. He never told anyone.

The school year ended without any further word from Dean or his buddies. Whether someone had told them to back off or they decided on their own that Castiel was no longer worth it Cas never did figure out, but it didn’t matter anyway. Just one more year and he’d be out of there. Senior year went by relatively quietly; Castiel stayed out of Dean’s way and Dean seemed to stay out of Castiel’s. Occasionally they would cross paths in the hallway and Dean would glare at Cas, but he never said one more word. He didn’t really have to, though. Every scowl, every glower from Dean spoke volumes. _No one’s ever gonna love you. Nobody wants you around._

Finally, blessedly, Castiel graduated high school. He had thought about going to college out of state. He had thought about it practically every day of his senior year, in fact. Part of him wanted to get as far away from Lawrence High as possible. His mom had other plans, however, and offered to buy him a car if he stayed in town, so Cas ended up at the University of Kansas.

It was pretty uneventful, which, to Cas, was a very good thing. Most days he didn’t think about Dean Winchester at all. He went to class, made a few friends, got drunk once or twice with Gabe, generally made good grades, and double majored in education and history. He joined the LGBTQ Student Alliance and the Young Democrats. Then during his senior year there was a presidential campaign, and that’s where he met Balthazar.

Balthazar Roché was the most beautiful, most sophisticated, just _other-worldly_ creature Cas had ever met. He had blond hair, blue eyes, was born in Paris, spoke four languages, and spoke English with the most swoon-worthy British accent Cas had ever heard. The fact that he was in Kansas always seemed like some sort of cosmic mistake, but Cas wasn’t about to point that little fact out to whichever god screwed up.

They spent many late nights together with other Young Democrats making cold calls for the presidential campaign. Occasionally Balthazar would catch Castiel’s gaze and give Cas a little smile or wink while one of them was on the phone and Castiel’s heart would stop. He spent his days dreaming about Balthazar and doodling “Castiel Roché” in his class notes.

He never dreamed of asking Balthazar out, however. _No one’s ever gonna love you,_ he reminded himself.

The night of the presidential race was magical, at least to Castiel. The Young Democrats all gathered at their headquarters to watch the returns. They sipped their drinks and sat on the edges of their seats as each state reported in. It became pretty obvious after a while that their guy wasn’t going to win. It became glaringly obvious only a little while later, however, that not only was he _not_ going to win, he was going to be completely decimated.

They decided instead to turn their little pity-party into an actual party. No one knew whose idea it was, but suddenly the TV was off, the lights were off, the music was on, and the alcohol was flowing. Several glasses of champagne later, Cas found himself pulled away from the dance floor in the middle of Billy Idol’s “Dancing with Myself” by none other than his other-worldly crush. They spent the rest of the night in the corner making out. It was Castiel’s first kiss, although he would never in a million years tell Balthazar that.

They didn’t see each other again for several months. Castiel was a little (okay, a lot) heartbroken, but Thanksgiving and Christmas with his family at least kept his mind off things. Then one week in to the spring semester Cas ran in to Balthazar at a coffee shop just off campus. After fifteen minutes of catching up, Castiel had been asked out on his first date ever. The two dated for the rest of the school year, and Cas thought he had died and gone to heaven. Here was this beautiful, sophisticated man, and he wanted Castiel. Boring old Castiel that nobody wanted around.

Things were great. They were amazing, extraordinary, phenomenal, and a hundred other words that Cas could list if someone had asked him. But Balthazar wanted to have sex, and Cas wasn’t ready. After all, he had never been on a date or even kissed a guy until a few months prior; it was all just too much, too soon. He held out as long as he could, placating Balthazar with long make-out sessions that occasionally ended with one of them coming in their pants. Then 2 weeks before graduation Balthazar either got tired of waiting or got tired of Cas, and broke up with him over the phone one night.

Balthazar told Castiel it was for the best, that he was going off to law school in the fall and they wouldn’t even be in the same city for the next three years, that Castiel was such a good, decent, _nice_ guy and deserved better.

Graduation was a blur; the summer was a blur. Castiel started teaching history in the fall and threw himself into it. Balthazar came home for Christmas break and took Cas out for drinks. Although they were both polite and had a lovely time catching up, things were strained between the two and nothing further happened. Cas finished out his first school year teaching, eventually went out on a date or two, and congratulated himself on finally getting over his first love.

Another year went by the same and Castiel barely thought about blue eyes or a British accent. Then the following spring came and Cas got a phone call. Balthazar was going to be in town for the summer. As in, the entire summer. Interning at the DA’s office. The school year ended, finally, and the following week Cas met Balthazar for dinner. They went out for drinks afterward. Then they went back to Castiel’s place, and Castiel lost his virginity.

They were together almost every night that summer. Cas never heard from Balthazar at all during the day, but that was okay. Their nights were always spent together. Cas knew that being with Balthazar was only temporary and that Balthazar would be leaving for his third year of law school before too much longer, but for the time being it was enough. He never expected anyone like Balthazar to want to be with him in the first place. He was going to take what little time with the man that he could get and cherish each moment. They could work out the rest of the details later.

When Balthazar returned to school in the fall he agreed to keep in touch with Castiel. His version of keeping in touch, however, consisted of a “Happy birthday, Cassie” text message in late August and a card for Christmas signed with just “Balthazar.” No “with love,” or “miss you,” or even an “xoxo.” Still, it was nice to know Balthazar still thought of him, so Cas kept the Christmas card on his dresser far longer than it was appropriate to keep Christmas things out. When the end of the school year came and he didn’t get an invitation to Balthazar’s law school graduation, however, he finally got the message. It really was over.

Four years later, Castiel was still single. There had been a few first dates here and there, but no second dates. Eventually he stopped trying to date altogether, figuring if he was meant to be with someone, which, come on, he probably wasn’t, it would happen when it was meant to happen.

Most days he was okay with that. He had a job he loved, and students who adored him. He had Gabriel and Kali. He had Anna and Michael and the twins. He had a good life. But every now and then in those quiet moments, alone on a Saturday night, he would remember. _No one’s ever gonna love you._ No matter how many years had passed, those words still stayed with him, deep down, like they were now woven into the very fabric of his being. He wanted to forget. He wanted to be better that, better than a collection of words that some hurtful high school kid had labeled him. Apparently, though, his dating track record spoke otherwise.

Then shortly after his 29th birthday, out of the blue, Castiel ran into Balthazar. At the grocery store of all places. Apparently Balthazar had taken a new position with a law firm in town. He was here, permanently. Not just for the holidays, not just for the summer, but permanently. He was crashing at a coworker’s house until he found a place, but still. He lived here.

Castiel asked Balthazar out for lunch, trying not to get his hopes up. This was, after all, the only man he had ever loved. The only man who had ever made him feel loved in return. But the way his life had gone so far, he just couldn’t get his hopes up. It was just going to be lunch, and it would probably be awkward, and they would go their separate ways, and that would be it.

Two days later Balthazar moved in with Castiel.

Six months after that they moved out of Castiel’s apartment into their posh condo downtown. It was twice the monthly payment for practically the same amount of space, but it was _theirs_. Finally. At last Castiel had a home with the man he loved. They picked out furniture. They hung pictures. Life was good. Life was better than he had ever imagined.

When Balthazar had first suggested Castiel try for his Master’s degree, Cas thought his boyfriend was crazy. Things were going well between them, and Cas didn’t want to give up the time they had together with night classes and studying all weekend. But Balthazar was an attorney, after all, and knew how to argue, and he eventually convinced Castiel.

It was a tough couple of years, as Castiel knew it would be. The first few months he would try to text Balthazar in between classes to see if his boyfriend could meet him for lunch or dinner or a quick coffee, but Balthazar’s schedule was as demanding as Castiel’s and it never seemed to work out. He tried to clear out the occasional Friday or Saturday night for a date night but Balthazar always had a late meeting or a dinner with a client scheduled. _It’s only temporary_ , he’d tell himself. _Just a little longer, and then we’ll have the rest of our lives_.

Two years went by in a blurry flash, and before Castiel knew it, he was done with his classes. After taking his comprehensive exams in the fall, he’d finally have his life back. He’d have his life with Balthazar back. When he got back that Friday afternoon and discovered that the condo was well and truly empty, that Balthazar had left him, he was devastated. He was, just, well, _gutted_.

But deep down he wasn’t surprised, not even a little bit. Because some part of him, all those years, had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Because he had been kidding himself to think that someone like Balthazar would ever want to be with him.

Because deep down, he still knew after all these years that Dean Winchester was right.

_No one’s ever gonna love you. Nobody wants you around._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, because I can't leave you hanging like that, have another chapter.

Castiel had always felt sorry for people who didn’t grow up with a mother who was half Cajun. Thanksgiving food must have been so boring at their houses, with plain old turkey and plain old dressing and plain old potatoes, with plain old pumpkin pie for dessert.

In the Milton household, however, there was always Cajun turkey with giblet gravy, cornbread and andouille dressing, Spinach Madeleine, corn macque choux, shrimp & grits, and dirty rice. Castiel had even learned how to make his mom’s pecan praline pumpkin pie when he was 15. By the time Castiel turned 18, Adele Milton told her son that his pie was better than hers, and it became his signature dish for the holiday.

Ever since the Milton children lost their mother to breast cancer a few years back, Thanksgiving became a family holiday akin to Mother’s Day. They all gathered at Anna’s house, the table filled with all of Adele’s signature Cajun dishes she had taught her children how to make. Gabriel, Anna, and Castiel would spend the day reminiscing about and honoring the woman who raised them by herself. It was one of Castiel’s favorite holidays.

This year, however, he just wasn’t feeling it. When Castiel lost his mother Balthazar had been so supportive, and the thought of facing the holidays now without either one of them made Castiel feel more alone than ever. But that’s not why he was quiet and distracted most of Thanksgiving Day. No, that was solely Dean Winchester’s doing.

Castiel hated the fact that he had let Dean get to him like this, hated that he had let Dean get under his skin and ruin one of his favorite holidays. He knew it was irrational, and he knew that he shouldn’t let something that happened 15 years ago get to him, but he also knew that he wouldn’t be quite so on edge if he hadn’t just been dumped in the worst way possible.

It almost felt like Balthazar had broken him, and just as he was starting to put the pieces back together Dean showed up to finish him off, to remind him. _No one’s ever gonna love you_. And the really pathetic part of it was that Dean didn’t even say anything this time. All Dean had to do was show his face and it was like Castiel was back in high school again.

Gabriel cornered him in the kitchen after dinner while the others were watching football. “So, you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

Damn. He thought he had been hiding it pretty well. Apparently not. He pulled the decaf out of the cupboard and started to fill the percolator. “Nothing’s wrong, Gabe. I’m fine.”

“Come on, Cas. I know you. Something’s wrong.”

Castiel took a deep breath, deliberating. He could try to blow Gabe off, but his brother already didn’t believe him when he said that nothing was wrong. Gabriel would just keep pestering him until he gave in.

“I ran in to Dean Winchester a few weeks ago.” Cas had never told his brother about what happened at the prom, but he had told Gabe plenty about his previous run-ins with Dean before then.

“Are you kidding me? Where? When?”

“The day they came to remove the tree from my yard. He works for Benny.” Castiel paused, remembering how he had watched Dean though his bedroom window, admiring the way Dean’s jeans framed his perfect ass, the way his t-shirt hugged the planes of his muscular back just so, before he realized who the man was. “He was at my house.”

“Jesus, Cas. So that’s why you called me to go out that night? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought that would be it. I just wanted to forget it ever happened.”

“So, did he see you? Does he remember you?”

“Yes, he remembered me alright.” That look on Dean’s face when they recognized each other in Castiel’s yard – was it shock? Fear? Disgust?

“Wait a sec,” Gabe interrupted his stream of thoughts. “You said you ‘thought that would be it.’ So what, did you see him again or something? Is he bothering you again?”

“No, I just saw him the one time.”

“So, did he say anything?”

“No, nothing. As soon as we saw each other I went back inside.” Castiel poured coffee for himself and Gabriel, contemplating while he added his cream and sugar how to put into words the thoughts that were rolling through his head.

“It’s just, I feel foolish for letting him get to me after all these years.”

“Stop it, Cas. You forget, I remember how that asshole treated you, and I remember how miserable you were. It’s not foolish at all. It’s normal. Plus you’ve had a rough couple of months as it is. This would make anyone crazy. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Castiel wasn’t quite sure he agreed with his brother, but he kept quiet.

“Hey, you remember what mom used to say? ‘No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.’”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Gabe, she was quoting Eleanor Roosevelt.”

“Whatever. But she was right. You don’t want to let him get to you? Then don’t. Look, you’re a good person. You got a lot going for you. You’re always here for us when we need anything. Your students love you. We love you. You just finished your master’s degree, for fuck’s sake. You know how badass that is? _And_ you make a pretty mean-ass praline pumpkin pie.”

Castiel felt the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile. “Thanks.”

“Look, what Balthazar did was shitty, but that’s on him, not you. That wasn’t your fault, and neither was the stuff that Dean did. So if you don’t want to let something some asshole kid said to you fifteen years ago get to you, then don’t let it.”

Castiel wanted to forget it, just forget all those things Dean had said to him all those years ago. He wanted to listen to his brother, wanted to believe it was just that easy, but it was like Julia Roberts had said in Pretty Woman: “ _The bad stuff is easier to believe. You ever notice that?”_ And shit, he must be pretty bad off to be empathizing with some Hollywood hooker who looked like a supermodel.

“Listen, bro, what do you say you and me go out tomorrow night for some beer and burgers, then have a James Bond fest at my place? It’s kinda quiet without you there.”

Castiel laughed in spite of himself. “You better not let Kali hear you say that.”

“Oh, I’ll make it up to her,” Gabriel replied with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “After you leave. Very vigorously.”

 

* * *

 

For his first Thanksgiving without the ex-wife, Dean had had a pretty good time. Ben spent the afternoon playing with Blake, and it kinda warmed Dean’s heart a little to see his son not just playing along but actually enjoying himself having pretend tea with a two and a half year old. Sarah insisted on cooking everything, and damn if she didn’t deliver. Sam had invited Ellen and Jo, and despite being told not to bring anything Ellen went and baked a caramel apple pecan pie.

Ellen was immediately invited back the following year. Every following year, in fact.

Friday night Dean took Ben to the holiday lighting ceremony downtown. He had enjoyed the Halloween thing there, at least until the ex showed up with her new boyfriend, so going downtown again to kick off the Christmas season seemed like a good idea. Ben assured him that there was no way his mom or her fiancé would be there, and Dean hated that his son was now caught in the middle of this whole mess, but he was glad Ben understood. They had fun seeing Massachusetts Street all decorated with Christmas lights and watching the firefighters “rescue” Santa Claus from the roof of Weaver’s Department Store.

Afterwards they found themselves at the Roadhouse for a late dinner. They had just seen Ellen the day before, sure, but she had spent half the time hassling Dean about the fact that he never brought Ben by to visit. Never mind the fact that the Roadhouse was an actual bar, for fuck’s sake, and Ben was only ten; Dean had learned a long time ago that you just don’t argue with Ellen, so burgers at the Roadhouse it was.

By Monday Dean was eager to get back to work after the long holiday weekend. He had been hoping that spending some quality time with his family would help put this thing with Castiel in perspective, push it back further into his mind. After all, it happened so long ago, right? There was no use in getting all freaked out over something he said to someone fifteen years ago. In reality, though, it just got worse. Each hug he received, each “I’m thankful” shared at the table, each declaration of love from each friend and family member just made Dean feel like more of a hypocrite.

Dean stepped out into the backyard early Monday morning to head to his workshop. A few days with his tools and his lumber would be exactly what he needed to get his head back on straight. He stopped short just outside the door, his eyes falling on the live edge boards stacked neatly along one side of the shop’s exterior.

The same ones that had been cut from Castiel’s oak tree, a sobering reminder of that day Dean was trying so desperately to forget.

Well, shit. Apparently, this wasn’t going to be the Castiel-free haven Dean had hoped it would be. It was gonna take several months for these boards to dry before they’d be usable. So what, was he gonna have to be reminded of Cas now every time he set foot in his backyard? Was he gonna have to relive prom night every time he headed to his shop? Be forced to remember every mean thing he ever said to Cas every time he picked up a board to build something?

Dean crossed the yard into his shop anyway, intent on following his original plan of forgetting the whole thing in a haze of cutting, nailing, sanding, and painting. He had the measurements and the lumber ready for his newest build, a custom bathroom vanity for one of Sam’s buddies. Ben had helped him cut the plywood for the sides and back of the cabinet the day before; now it was time to trim the boards for the shelves and the cabinet doors and drawers.

A few hours later, however, Dean had worked himself into a pretty foul mood. First he cut the notches for the kick plate too small and had to redo them. Then he cut the plywood for the shelves a quarter-inch too short and had to redo those as well. When he couldn’t find the right router bit for the detail on the cabinet doors and tore up half the shop looking for it he finally gave up and called it quits for the day. Like it or not, he just wouldn’t be able to concentrate, _on_ _the simplest fucking things, apparently_ , until he dealt with Castiel.

So what was he supposed to do now? Call the guy and try to apologize, talk it out? _“Hey, Cas, it’s Dean Winchester. You remember, the guy who called you an ugly queer back in high school and told you no one would ever love you? Yeah? Well, sorry about that.”_ Yeah, right. Cas would hang up on him before he ever got his name out. Dean didn’t have Cas’ phone number anyway. Well, he could probably get it from Benny _but that wasn’t the fucking point_.

He remembered where Castiel’s house was; should he go to there and try to see him in person? Bring a bottle of expensive liquor as a peace offering? _“Hey, Cas. I brought you a little something. Hope this makes up for the shitty way I treated you junior year.”_ No, Cas would probably slam the door in his face. Dean wasn’t good with words anyway; he’d probably just fuck it up if he tried to apologize in person.

No, as lame as it sounded in his head, he finally decided writing Cas a letter would be best. He could take his time, sort out the jumble of thoughts and regrets in his head, get the words just right. It was stupid, he knew, and would probably end up sounding more like Dean was just trying to ease his own conscience instead of genuinely trying to make it right. And Cas would probably throw it away without reading it anyway, but Dean at least had to give it a try. He got a pen and some spare notebook paper from Ben’s desk, grabbed a beer and sat down at the dining room table.

What the hell was he supposed to say, though? Really, how do you apologize for ruining someone’s life?

 

* * *

 

Castiel didn’t think it was possible to be more relieved to pull up his driveway. It had been a hectic few days at Garrison; something about having just had a long holiday weekend made the girls extra crazy when they came back. Apparently the new thing was for all the students to park their cars sideways, so the parking lot had been complete chaos all week. Then Rachel’s homeroom covered her entire desk in post-it notes, while the students in Naomi’s anatomy class rearranged all the skeletons into rather sexually compromising positions.

Thankfully Castiel had thus far escaped whatever prank war was going on. But if the next two weeks were at all similar, he was gonna need a few aspirin and some serious R&R once exams were over. Maybe he’d even get around to using that massage gift card Anna had given him for his birthday. Or maybe he should start running again. Running had always been a great de-stressor in the past, before working on his master’s used up all of his free time. The Land of Oz Marathon was sometime in the spring; he had never done a full marathon before, but perhaps he should look into it.

Castiel picked up the mail from the mailbox and headed inside. He threw his keys on his new entry table, set his canvas messenger bag down and leafed through the mail piece by piece. Junk, junk, bill, junk, personal letter. Postmarked from Dean Winchester? What the hell? What could Dean possibly want to say to him? Did Cas even want to hear it?

His first instinct was to toss Dean’s letter into the trash. Gabe had been right; it was silly to get all bent out of shape over running into someone he disliked. And it wasn’t as if Dean had even said anything to him that day; Dean had basically just _looked_ at him. Cas wasn’t going to spend any more time thinking about someone he hated merely looking at him. He should just forget it and move on, and that’s exactly what he had been trying to do these past few days. What’s past is past, right?

He turned the letter over in his hands, over and over, contemplating what to do. He could throw it away unopened, but there would most likely be a little part of him that would always wonder what it said. Okay, so he could open it and read it. What could it possibly say? More of the same things Dean used to say in high school? If Dean wanted to do that there were more direct ways of going about it than using snail mail. So that option, while possible, was not likely.

Could it be a “you stay out of my life and I’ll stay out of yours” kind of message? Well, Cas hadn’t exactly chosen to have Dean reenter his life; that was a total accident. So what did that leave, an apology letter? Did Dean want Castiel’s forgiveness after all these years?

Would Cas be willing to give it?

There was no way he’d be able to make up his mind right away. After all, it took him a month and trips to a dozen furniture stores before he decided on that entry table, and that was just a $300 piece of furniture. Whether or not to read a letter from one’s high school bully was clearly a more serious issue, and not something that could be decided while standing in the foyer in business casual and a trench coat.

More deliberation would be required before a definitive decision was to be made. Cas left the letter on the entry table and retreated to his bedroom. First things first; a hot shower and more comfortable clothes were in order.

The heat and the steam relaxed his tired muscles, but didn’t get him any closer to knowing whether he should read Dean’s letter, so Cas set about making himself some dinner. Maybe with some food in his system he’d be able to think more clearly. He opened the fridge and stared at his choices. There was some leftover spaghetti sauce, ingredients for salad, frozen ravioli in the freezer. _Well, that’s one thing decided, at least._

He picked up the letter from the foyer and stared at it while he cooked. Did he really care how sorry Dean was after all these years? The boiling, chopping, and reheating failed to provide any answers.

He mulled it over while he ate. Would knowing what the letter said really help him to forget and move on with his life? After finishing his meal he was no closer to an answer.

He contemplated further while he cleaned the kitchen. Would he be better off knowing what the letter said, or not knowing?

Castiel looked at the letter one last time. _You know what? The bottom line is, if I really wanted to read it, I would have already opened it and read it. So, there you go. Decision made._ He tossed the letter into the trash and went to the living room to see what was on the DVR.

Later that night, Castiel lay in bed, tossing and turning, the letter still front and center in his mind. He didn’t want to keep waffling, but his decision to trash the letter continued to haunt him. After several hours of lying awake in bed staring at the ceiling, Castiel started to reconsider. He had already changed his mind several dozen times and almost gotten out of bed to retrieve it once or twice.

Why did Dean want to make contact again after all these years? Couldn’t they just leave things in the past and move on? Castiel definitely didn’t have it in him to forgive, but forgetting seemed like a pretty damn good plan. After all, it wasn’t like they were going to be seeing each other all the time; the one time had been a fluke.

But would it really be so bad to open the letter and read it? It was unlikely that his life could get any worse for knowing, and wouldn’t knowing be better than not knowing? He wouldn’t get any less sleep, that’s for sure. Finally, just after 1 a.m. Castiel got out of bed and headed to the kitchen to fish Dean’s letter out of the garbage can, leaning against the kitchen counter as he read.

 

_Dear Castiel,_

_I’m not really good with words, so this is probably gonna sound pretty lame. I’ve been trying to figure out the best way to say I’m sorry, but there’s probably not any good way to say it. I was a jerk to you back in high school, plain and simple. And you probably won’t believe me when I say this, but I really never meant any of the things I said. I honestly never thought you were a freak, or weird, or ugly, or a fag, or any of those names I called you. That wasn’t you, none of it, and it was wrong of me to say that stuff, and I’m sorry._

_You remember what I said that night at the prom? Stupid question, of course you do. I know “sorry” doesn’t even begin to cut it for that, but I am. I never should have said that, and if I could take it back I would. Because the truth is, I did want you around. I thought you were so cool, ever since we were freshman and you wore that stupid sock monkey cap to school every day that winter. You never cared what anyone thought, you were just yourself. I respected you for that, and the truth is, I really wished we could have been friends._

_I know that there’s not enough apologies in the world to make up for the things I said to you in high school. Nothing I could say could ever erase what I did, and that’s something I’m gonna have to live with. But please know that there’s no part of me that ever thought any of those things were true. I was just a dumb kid, and I was going through some stuff of my own, and I took it out on you, and I’m sorry. Cas, you have no idea how sorry I am, and if I could take it all back I would._

_I know it’s not enough, and I know you deserve more, but I am sorry. I’m not going to ask you to forgive me, because I don’t deserve it. But I just wanted you to know, from the bottom of my heart, I am sorry for the things I said to you. You never deserved any of it._

_Sincerely,_

_Dean_

 

Well, that was unexpected. He sat down at the kitchen table and reread the letter several times, wondering if Dean would ever have said any of these things had they not run into each other. Maybe he was just tired and his brain a little foggy, but he thought Dean actually sounded… sincere.

He had no idea what to do next, now that he knew Dean’s side of things. Well, sort of knew Dean’s side of things; what was the stuff Dean had been going though, he wondered? And what now? Was the ball in his court? Was there even a ball? Should he just let it go and get on living his life like before? Would that even be possible, or was there some new road he was about to head down, some new alternate universe where Dean was remorseful and trying to make amends? There were too many questions for the early hour; his eyes began to burn with exhaustion, so he set the letter down and returned to bed.

Castiel fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, and slept better than he had in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tree-lighting ceremony and the fire department rescuing Santa from the roof of the department store are apparently real holiday events in Lawrence. You know, the more I read about this place the more I want to visit!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I finished writing a new chapter last night, and finished outlining the rest of the story, so you guys get a bonus update! Looks like this is going to be 34 chapters total, plus an epilogue.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your comments and encouragement! It really means a lot, and keeps me going. Glad you're all enjoying the road so far.
> 
> And now... the moment you've all been waiting for! Well, sort of.

“You’re going to run a marathon?” Gabriel was incredulous.

“Yes, I am. I signed up this morning. It’s in April. Will you come with me to cheer me on?”

“No, I’ll come with you to drink beer and mock you. Are you crazy?” Gabriel made a right turn into the parking lot in front of the department store.

“Lots of people run marathons, Gabe. People in worse shape than me. It’s not crazy; I actually find it quite inspirational. Plus, it’ll give me something to focus on, now that I’m not studying all the time.”

“Yeah, but can’t you just take piano lessons, or learn Spanish or something? Why do that to yourself?”

Castiel just shrugged. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. I think it’s time I crossed it off my bucket list. I haven’t run very much these past few years, and I really miss it.”

“Yeah, but a marathon? That’s 26 freaking miles! That’s like running from here to Topeka!” Gabriel pulled into a parking spot and turned off the engine.

Castiel laughed as he exited the passenger door. “Maybe I’ll add that route to my training schedule.”

“So, you really haven’t finished your Christmas shopping yet? I thought you always did your shopping online, like in October or something?” Gabriel locked the car and headed toward the front entrance with Castiel. “This isn’t like you to be so unorganized. I mean, it’s already December! What are you gonna do?”

“I did finish my shopping, weeks ago, smartass,” Castiel muttered to his brother. He would never admit as much to Gabe, but it pained Cas that he waited until almost Thanksgiving before he got around to looking for everyone’s gifts online. He did have a lot on his mind the past few weeks, true, but that was no excuse for such gross negligence. “But I know you didn’t, and I don’t want you waiting until Christmas Eve like you normally do.”

“I’ll have you know that Christmas Eve is the best time to get your Christmas shopping done. You don’t have to spend days agonizing over every single gift; you see something, you buy it. Or you don’t. See? No deliberating, no agonizing, no buyer’s remorse, and best of all, no ulcers, the way you do it. It’s like lightning-round shopping. I’m like a ninja on Christmas Eve.” Gabe opened the door to the department store and waved Castiel in.

“Yeah, well, maybe I’d like to get something other than socks this year, okay?”

“Hey, that was one time. And they were cashmere!”

“What about the sweater you bought for Michael that one year?”

“Oh, come on. That was ages ago. It wasn’t my fault they had women’s sweaters mixed in with the men’s. Plus, Anna liked it. She still wears it, I’ll have you know.”

“And the earrings you bought Dani last year?”

“How was I supposed to know she never got her ears pierced?”

“She’s only seven, Gabe.”

“She still could have had ‘em done. And anyway, Kali took her for her birthday, so there. Besides, I have my moments of brilliance. You wore that dinosaur shirt last weekend, the one I got you for your birthday.”

“Yes, you do have your moments. Christmas would be so dull without you.”

“I know, right? Just trying to keep things lively.”

They entered the department store in the middle of the women’s section, so of course Gabriel made a beeline for the lingerie to find a gift for Kali. Or, as he liked to call it, “a little something for myself, if you know what I mean.” Castiel groaned and reluctantly followed Gabe, wishing he still had just one more person to shop for so he could keep himself occupied while Gabe picked out his first gift.

Castiel knew that his brother prided himself on his last-minute shopping skills, and that Gabe was one of the few people that actually enjoyed the madness of Christmas Eve shopping, so Castiel was a little surprised that Gabe actually agreed to join him. Of course, what Castiel really wanted to do instead of shop was to get Gabe’s opinion on Dean’s apology letter.

When it came right down to it, though, he was a little reluctant to bring it up. Castiel had already spent so much of the last few months leaning on his brother; he just couldn’t bring himself to add one more thing to the list of issues that he needed his big brother’s guidance to get through. After all, he was an adult. He was smart. He had a master’s degree. He was a member of Mensa, for pete’s sake. He could recite the alphabet backwards and name all 44 presidents. He should be able to figure out what to do about one little letter from his high school bully, right?

“What about this one?” Gabe asked, holding up a black corset-looking thing with straps, and hooks, and how in the world did women ever wear those things? How do you even put it on? Castiel knew nothing about women’s lingerie, but even if he did, it was more than a little creepy to help his brother pick out a gift that would basically lead to getting laid.

“I don’t know, looks rather uncomfortable,” Castiel grimaced.

“Nah, she wears these all the time. Maybe you’re right, though. It looks kinda like the one she had on the other night.”

“Ugh, Gabe, stop. I don’t want to think about…”

“Your sister-in-law with her legs behind her head?” Gabe smirked, waggling his eyebrows for effect.

Castiel winced. “That’s it. I’m going to house wares. Come find me when you’re done shopping for yourself.” Cas loved his brother, and he loved Kali, but… ick.

Part of Castiel wished Gabe would just hurry up and figure out his ulterior motive, that he had this huge thing that he so very badly wanted to talk about, so that he didn’t have to find a way to bring it up himself. It would be so much easier if Gabe would just come right out and ask him what was wrong, but Gabe was apparently oblivious. He just stood there looking through the racks of satin and lace, unusually focused on picking something out considering he was almost 3 weeks ahead of his usual gift-buying schedule. Cas finally gave up and headed to the rear of the store. He hadn’t planned on doing any buying today, but he really did need a new set of spatulas.

Maybe it was actually a good sign that Gabe was oblivious to what was going on in Castiel’s mind, proof that Cas was actually moving on and no longer had the look of perpetual turmoil written across his face. After all, Cas had really tried to take his brother’s Thanksgiving day advice to heart and put the whole running-into-Dean thing behind him. In fact, until he held that letter in his hands he hadn’t given Dean Winchester much more thought at all.

He still wondered, though, whether seeing Dean would have rattled him so much if he hadn’t just gone through the breakup. If he hadn’t just failed so spectacularly at the only relationship he’d ever had, lost the only man he’d ever loved, the only man who’d ever loved him, would seeing Dean have made him feel so worthless, so unlovable? If he had, say, been out with Balthazar and run into Dean somewhere, would it have had the same effect?

And was it really a breakup if the other party just walked away and left without saying goodbye? He had to think of another word for it. The abandonment? No, that just sounded ten times worse, and much more pathetic.

“Okay, come on. Spit it out.” Gabe’s voice interrupted Castiel’s inner monologue. Okay, so maybe Gabe wasn’t so oblivious after all. And when did he get here? Castiel hadn’t even heard his brother walk over.

“Spit what out? What are you talking about?”

“Cas, you’ve got a terrible poker face. I can tell there’s something you wanted to talk about. Ever since you got to my house you’ve had this look on your face like you want to tell me something. Besides the marathon. Plus you know I hate shopping early, so I know that’s not why you called me. So what is it? What’s going on?”

Castiel set down the box of kitchen utensils he had been contemplating and sighed. “I got a letter from Dean yesterday.”

“You got a letter? Like, an actual pen-and-paper letter? What did it say?”

“He wanted to apologize.”

Gabriel huffed out a laugh. “Apologize? It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, Gabe. He actually sounded sincere. I think he meant it.”

“Yeah, but don’t you think the timing is a little suspect? Like, would he have tried to apologize if he hadn’t just run into you and saw how much it freaked you out?”

“I don’t know.” Castiel had wondered about that himself. “But does it really matter, in the end? If he really regrets his actions, and is truly sorry, why should it matter what prompted it?”

“You know what I mean. How can you be sure he’s really sorry, and not just feeling guilty because he saw you? Look, if he had gone the whole rest of his life and never run into you again, ever, do you think he would still be sorry for the way he treated you?”

That had been Castiel’s initial thought upon first seeing Dean’s letter, but the more he reread it, the more he started to rethink that assessment. He stared down the aisle of kitchen gadgets and thought about some of the things Dean had said; he had read the letter so many times now he practically had it memorized.

_I did want you around._

_I really wished we could have been friends._

_I know it’s not enough, and I know you deserve more, but I am sorry._

And the kicker, the one line that Castiel kept coming back to:

_I was just a dumb kid, and I was going through some stuff of my own, and I took it out on you, and I’m sorry._

Castiel was almost certain that if he hadn’t run into Dean, none of those revelations would ever have come to light. But he also wanted to believe that everything Dean said in that letter would have been true whether Dean ever admitted it aloud or not. Cas might have gone his whole life and never known that Dean regretted his actions, but he believed in his heart that Dean still would have been sorry.

“Yes, I actually do. I believe him. You probably think I’m an idiot, but I believe him.”

Gabe put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “No, Cas, I don’t think you’re an idiot. Not for this, anyway. Running a marathon? Now _that’s_ idiotic.”

Castiel smiled. It was a relief to have his brother’s support, even if he himself wasn’t completely sure of where to go from here.

“So, what are you gonna do now? Write him back?” Gabe wondered.

“I have no idea. Do you think I should?” Castiel felt that some sort of response was required, since Dean did take the time out to reach out. But what? “I believe he’s sincere in his apology, but I don’t think I’m ready to forgive him just like that. I really wouldn’t know what to say. What do you think I should say?”

“Dude, I have no idea. How do you tell someone, ‘Thanks for saying you’re sorry, now piss off’? I mean, they don’t exactly make Hallmark cards for that.”

Castiel laughed. “They should, though.”

“I know,” Gabriel agreed. “You should call ‘em and suggest it.”

 

* * *

 

Dean felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket as he crossed the parking lot into Home Depot. He checked the caller ID and smiled. “Sarah! How’s my favorite sister-in-law?”

“I’m good,” she laughed. “You left your jacket here the other day. Want me to bring it by when I pick up Blake from daycare?”

“Oh. Yeah. I wondered where it was. Yeah, just stop by the house. I’ll be in the back working.” Dean made his way toward the power tool section to find a new belt for his sander.

“Will do. So, you given any more thought to what we talked about?”

He hadn’t meant to say anything the other night, but after Sam had gotten a few beers in him he mentioned to Sarah that he had been thinking about trying his hand at furniture building. He had expected her to laugh in his face, or tell him he was dreaming or something, but instead she told him it was a great idea. She even showed him how to set up a shop online once he had some finished pieces to sell. Dean didn’t think it would ever quite get to that point, but it was sweet that Sarah was so supportive.

“Yeah, I did. I’m gonna go for it. I went by the lumber yard yesterday, got these oak slabs. Might make a table out of ‘em or something. Started working on it this morning, actually.” The more Dean had thought about it, the more he wanted to try it. Business had slowed a little since the holidays were approaching, so it was the perfect time to get a new project started while he was in between jobs.

“Dean, that’s great! And I’m telling you, you’ll be a natural at this. Your stuff will be selling like crazy before you know it.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” After all, Sam was the successful one, not Dean. And this was nothing more than a hobby, really, not something that would ever pay the bills. But as long as there was no work on the immediate horizon, it would keep him occupied, at least, and doing something that he enjoyed.

“Trust me. I know you can do this. Listen, I’ve gotta run, but Blake and I will see you later this afternoon, okay?”

“Kay. Bye, Sarah.” He hung up and picked the belt he was looking for. And, you know, while he was here, he might as well pick up some new planks. He was thinking of doing an inlay design in the center of the table; the mix of new wood with the reclaimed would add a nice detail.

Dean glanced over as he neared the lumber aisle and stopped as he noticed a familiar face looking extremely confused and lost. Castiel? What the heck was he doing here? Should Dean say something? Hello? How’s it going? What would he even say?

Had Cas gotten the letter, Dean wondered? Would he accept Dean’s apology? Or did he think it was all crap? He probably thought it was all crap. Should Dean offer his assistance? He did practically live at this store, and could probably help with whatever Castiel was confused about. But would Cas want his help?

No, he probably didn’t want Dean’s help. Dean should probably just turn around and walk away and pretend he never saw Cas. Before his feet listened to his brain and started moving, however, Castiel turned around and locked eyes with Dean. Cas gave him a tentative smile and a little half-wave, almost apologetic in nature.

“Uh, hey Cas.” Dean gave a little wave back and walked over.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel was looking at stacks of drywall and apparently taking notes.

“Um, what do you got going on there? Anything I can help with? I, uh, I know this store pretty well, so…”  No, this wasn’t awkward in the least, was it?

Cas paused, his brow furrowed, like he was contemplating whether to continue conversing or just blow Dean off and leave. This was a bad idea; Dean should have just turned around and walked away and left the guy alone. He clearly didn’t need anything from Dean, and was probably silently cursing Dean for showing up and ruining his day.

“I don’t know,” Castiel replied at last. “You know anything about installing drywall and insulation?”

Well, that was a surprise. Not the drywall part, because that’s obviously what he was shopping for or he wouldn’t have been standing there taking notes. No, the part where he just asked Dean for help. Did he really just ask for Dean’s help?

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I do. I’m a contractor, actually. Why, what are you looking for?”

Castiel sighed, staring at his choices. “I have an unfinished room in my house that needs insulation and drywall installed. I’d spoken with a contractor a few weeks ago, but he called yesterday and cancelled, so now it looks like I’ll be doing the work myself. I thought I’d come here and take a look at the materials, get a feel for how much I would need to purchase and what everything’s going to cost, but it’s a little overwhelming.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. But, you know, it’s really not that hard, if you know what you’re doing. You got anybody to help you out?” Okay, this was just plain weird. This was, like, the longest conversation Dean had ever had with Castiel. It was good weird, though. And Castiel didn’t appear to be on the verge of punching Dean in the jaw, so that was a plus.

“Not yet, but I’m hoping I can convince my brother and brother-in-law to help me.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, that’s good. Like I said, as long as you know what you’re doing, it’s not that hard. You can probably get it done in a weekend or something.” Dean wondered if Cas really knew what he was doing; Cas still seemed a little mystified by the materials in front of him. “One of you has done this before, right?”

“No, actually,” Castiel admitted.  “But I’ve done a bit of research online.”

_No, Winchester,_ Dean told himself. _This is a bad idea. Keep your mouth shut and leave the guy alone. You’ve done enough to this guy for one lifetime, now just walk away and let him be. Just let him live the rest of his life in peace. He doesn’t need your help, and he certainly doesn’t want you interfering._

Except that Castiel hadn’t pushed Dean away yet, hadn’t told him to get lost or fuck off or anything. Cas was still standing there talking to him. That was a good sign, right?

“If you want, I mean, um,” Dean stammered, “I could, I could help you. I mean, I’m a licensed contractor, and I’ve done plenty of these, so. Yeah, I’d be glad to help out. If you want.”

Castiel just stood there for a long moment, not saying anything. He turned his head and stared down the long aisle of building materials and sighed. “I appreciate the offer, but to be honest I’m not sure I’m ready to hire another contractor.”

“No! No, I mean, I’m not asking you to hire me or anything. I’m just saying, I’ll help with the labor. I could come by your house, take some measurements, and tell you how much you need to buy. When they deliver it I can come over and help you install it. Trust me; it goes a lot faster when you’ve done it before.”

What in the hell did Dean think he was doing, anyway? There was no way in hell Castiel would ever take him up on his offer, free help or no. Just standing there with Cas was awkward enough; did Dean really think he’d be able to spend an entire weekend alone with this guy he had tormented all those years ago, even if he had apologized? Even if he was truly, from the bottom of his heart, so deeply sorry?

And as awkward as it was for Dean, it must be ten times worse for Cas. Yeah, this was a bad idea. He should just walk away and forget about it.

Except that he would never forgive himself if he didn’t do everything he could to try to make it up to Castiel. He had meant it when he wrote that he had wished he and Cas could have been friends back then. But he knew there was no way he’d get that chance now, though. He didn’t deserve it. But maybe, just maybe, he could try to make it up to Cas. Even in such a small way as this.

“Cas, I’m not asking you to pay me. I just want to help out.” Might as well go for broke while he’s at it. “Look, I know I was a jerk to you back then, but I promise you I’m not that guy any more. Please let me make it up to you.”

Dean had no idea how long the silence stretched out. It could have been ten seconds; it could have been ten minutes. All he knew was that he had never felt his heart beat so hard in his chest with anticipation before in his life. Not even when he proposed to Lisa.

“Very well,” Castiel nodded. “When would you like to stop by to take measurements?”

“Um, I’m free now, if you are. It’ll just take a few minutes, then I’ll give you a list of what you need to order and how much.”

This was a good thing, right? Dean sure hoped it was.

 

* * *

  

Castiel loitered awkwardly by the exit door, maintaining as passive a face as he could muster while Dean finished checking out. He kept waiting for some sort of sign from above that he was making a mistake by inviting Dean to help him out, but the gods were awfully quiet. No lighting strikes or smiting would be afoot in Home Depot today, apparently.

“Okay, you ready?” Dean appeared at the door, sanding belt under one arm.

_Nope, I am most decidedly not ready_.

“Yes. Absolutely,” he lied. Did that seem too artificially eager? He didn’t want to appear too uncomfortable, but he also didn’t want to seem overly enthusiastic either. Shit. What was the proper emotion for this situation?

He knew his people skills were a little rusty, but this was new uncharted territory that was so far outside the realm of the familiar mapped sections of the universe, he might as well have been Captain Janeway in the Delta Quadrant. “So, you want to follow me, or…?”

“Yeah, sure. I think I remember where your house is, from last time. In case we get separated.”

Castiel nodded. “So, see you there?”

“Yeah. ‘Kay.” Castiel watched as Dean made his way toward a tan-colored pickup truck that looked like it had seen better days. Dean had said he knew the way, but Cas still wanted to be sure he watched for the correct vehicle in his rearview.

The whole drive back to his house, Castiel continued to wonder if he was out of his mind to have agreed to this. Had he really just basically invited Dean Winchester to come over to his house? More than once, apparently?

It had been very disheartening when his original contractor cancelled on him, of course, but after a little online research it hadn’t seemed too difficult a job to complete on his own. Standing there in the aisle, though, staring at stacks of drywall, it was a completely different story. To say the prospect seemed overwhelming was an understatement. But now it was coming down to the wire. He definitely needed the job to get done before the weather got too much colder outside, and wasn’t sure he would have time to find a new contractor. Not without paying out the ass, that is.

Then suddenly one was there, basically offering to work for free. But would it be worth it, to let Dean into his home, into his life? Cas had spent so much of his life outwardly hating this man, while inwardly resigned that the guy was only speaking the truth about him.

That letter, though. It changed things. Castiel knew he wasn’t ready to do a complete 180 on his view of Dean, but he found himself willing to give the guy the benefit of the doubt. It was easy for Cas to say he would accept an apology when it was still some theoretical concept that had no bearing on his daily life. But to see Dean standing there in front of him? In that initial moment Castiel knew he was standing at a crossroads, faced with a decision that would affect the direction his life took from thereafter. He was holding the box containing Schrödinger’s cat, ready to open it to reveal whether the cat was alive or dead.

Fuck it, he decided. He was curious to see where this road led. He took Dean up on his offer and led the man to his home. Twenty minutes later he unlocked his front door and motioned Dean inside. He threw his keys and his notepad on the entry table.

“Wow. This is a nice place you got here.” Dean seemed genuinely impressed as he looked around the living room.

“Thank you.” Castiel remembered Benny’s remark and waited for Dean to comment on the woodwork, but Dean never did. “I, uh, I just moved in recently so I’m still getting settled in.”

“Oh. Okay.” If Dean wondered about the sparseness of the décor or the lack of clutter that usually accompanies that “just moved in” look, he didn’t say anything. “So, where is this room you’re working on?”

“This way.” Castiel led Dean through the kitchen to the rear of the house. “This is where the tree fell. The original owners were able to complete this much of the rebuild before the money ran out. I have an electrician coming over tomorrow to do the wiring, and the contractor was to begin work the next day, but he called yesterday to cancel, as I said.”

Dean walked around the room, inspecting the framing, exterior sheetrock, and windows. “Well, looks like they did a good job, what they did get done. Shouldn’t be too hard to finish off. Probably take a weekend to get the insulation and drywall done, maybe another weekend to do the crown moulding and the baseboards if you want to match the stain color from the other rooms. What about the floor?”

Castiel tried not to look too confused. Dean was starting to mention things he had barely even thought about. Maybe this job would be too much for him to take on himself; clearly he was in over his head. He should just start looking for a professional to finish it, cost be damned. _Better start looking forward to lots of peanut butter sandwiches and ramen noodles, because that’s all you’ll be able to afford from now on._

“Hey, don’t worry. I can help you with that too,” Dean offered. “You want the floor to match the rest of the house, right?”

“Yes. Do you think you’ll be able to do that?”

“Absolutely. Trust me, Cas; I’ve been doing this a long time. When we’re done you’ll never be able to tell that it used to look like this.”

Castiel found his worries slightly eased by Dean’s casual confidence. He didn’t know why; it made no logical sense, but he actually trusted the man. _And am I crazy_ , he thought, _or is this not as awkward as I thought it would be? Well, so far, at least._

“So, what now?” Castiel inquired.

“Let me take some measurements, then I can draw up a list of supplies for you to order. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” Castiel agreed. It gave him a small measure of comfort that Dean really did seem to know what he was doing and had a plan in place. Maybe working with him wouldn’t be so bad after all. He actually seemed like a pretty nice guy.

“And Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Thanks. For letting me do this. I, uh, I appreciate it.”

Castiel just nodded, having no idea what to say to that. You’re welcome? No problem? None of the responses on the tip of his tongue seemed quite right. Dean didn’t wait for a response, however. He got to work, measuring and calculating, taking notes as he went.

And if Castiel happened to notice that Dean was wearing Wranglers this time instead of Levis, well, that was completely coincidental.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and now, the real fun begins.

Castiel was elbow-deep in grading semester exams the following Wednesday when a truckload of building materials was unceremoniously dumped on his front lawn. He briefly considered moving the materials indoors, until he eyed the sheer volume of stuff that had been delivered. Dean hadn’t been kidding when he said it would be a lot.

When Dean had placed the order the final total had been high enough that he was able use his professional account to get his contractor’s discount. Castiel would have argued with him, told him that wasn’t necessary, but of course Dean completed the order before telling Castiel what he did. On top of that, he also removed a small section of Castiel’s flooring so he could match it himself at the store. All Castiel had to do was make one more trip to Home Depot to pick out paint colors.

Using his discount probably didn’t cost Dean anything, but the extra time he would be spending, either at the store on Castiel’s behalf or with Castiel working, must be costing him a job somewhere. Dean must be really serious about making amends, Cas decided, if he was willing to do this much for someone he barely knew.

The next few days were filled with an undercurrent of nervous anticipation weaving through everything Castiel did. It wasn’t the kind of anticipation that usually accompanied something exciting, something he’d spend the whole week looking forward to. But neither was it the sort of nervous anticipation that usually accompanied things like buying furniture, the kind that made him question and second guess everything until he was quite certain that he was going to pass out or vomit or both.

It was more the kind of nervous anticipation associated with fear of the unknown; he couldn’t decide whether he felt good or bad, filled with excitement or dread. Maybe he felt all of them at once. Maybe it was none of the above. It was really hard to tell.

All Castiel knew was that he wanted the weekend to hurry up and come already. It wasn’t so much that he was looking forward to seeing Dean again; he decided it was more that he just wanted to get the job started so he could put this Dean chapter behind him and get on with his life. And, you know, get his house fixed.

Saturday morning arrived too soon and not soon enough. Castiel had just started a pot of coffee, extra strong today, when he heard a heavy knock on the door.

Castiel felt his mouth go dry as he opened the door and eyed his visitor. For someone Castiel was supposed to hate, Dean was awfully nice to look at.

He was dressed in well-worn jeans, ripped slightly at the knees and slung low on his waist. He sported a vintage gray AC/DC t-shirt that had a hole along the collar and was just a tiny bit too tight in all the right places. And those arms. Cas fought the urge to reach out and feel the biceps peeking out from under those snug short sleeves.

Cas had never had a kink for jeans and vintage rock tees before, that he could remember. He was starting to rethink that.

_Stop it, Castiel. You don’t like this person. Remember all the things he said to you back in high school? He wasn’t a nice guy._

_But he apologized. He said he didn’t mean it._

_He’s a bully. That’s what they all say._

_I believe him. And he is making an effort. I think he’s genuinely trying to make amends._

Castiel suddenly realized he was standing in the doorway basically staring at the guy as he waged his internal debate. Great. Now Dean’s gonna think he’s some creepster. “Hello, Dean,” Cas finally managed to choke out.

“Hey, Cas. You ready to get to work?”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Castiel stammered as he stepped aside and waved Dean in. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Yeah. Absolutely.” Dean followed Castiel into the kitchen. “So, uh, how was your week?”

“Not too bad. We had our semester exams this week, but they also wanted grades posted by yesterday afternoon. I’ve been up later than usual every night this week trying to finish grading.” Castiel filled a mug as he spoke and handed it to Dean. “Cream and sugar?”

“No. Thanks, man. This is fine.” Dean blew into his steaming mug and took a sip. “So, you’re a teacher?”

“Yes, at Garrison Academy. I teach American and World History, and Government.”

“No kidding? That’s great, dude. Good for you.”

There was a lull as both men quietly sipped their drinks. Castiel fought the urge to sneak a peek at his watch; his mom had once told him that lulls in conversation always came at the top of the hour, at twenty minutes past the hour, and twenty minutes before the hour, because those were the times that the angel of death would pass over the room. Ever since, Castiel would look at his watch every time there was a lull in conversation.

“So,” Dean spoke up first. “You want to start moving stuff inside?”

“Yes, of course. Whatever you think is best.”

It took the better part of the hour to get everything from the front yard inside the house, at which point Castiel was ready to call it a day and take a nice, long hot bath to relax his already-tired muscles. He should definitely add some strength training to his running schedule, because this was a little embarrassing.

Cas poured himself some iced tea while Dean went back to his truck to fetch his tool cart. He took a moment to thank whatever deity was upstairs listening that he still had not used that massage gift card. First thing Monday morning he was going to call and make an appointment. Maybe he’d even splurge and upgrade to the 90 minute massage.

Dean entered the kitchen and handed Castiel a pair of work gloves and a mask. “So, you ready to get started on the insulation?”

Castiel was most decidedly not ready for more manual labor. “Very well,” he sighed.

“Hey, don’t worry. It’s easy. You’ll see.”

Castiel wished he shared Dean’s confidence. Dean was right, though. They made quick work of the large room, finding an easy symmetry working together that Castiel would never have expected. Small talk about the room segued seamlessly to more in-depth conversation as Castiel began telling Dean about teaching at Garrison and finishing his master’s degree. Dean told Cas about going to electrician school in his early twenties, then learning carpentry with Bobby and getting his contractor’s license. It wasn’t awkward one bit; it was oddly comfortable.

They decided to take a break before getting started on the drywall. After a quick lunch of sandwiches and iced tea Castiel gave Dean a tour of the rest of the house. Dean was impressed with the level of detail in the woodwork, and teased Castiel about his lack of furniture. Castiel entertained Dean with his tales of nausea-inducing furniture shopping.

Installing drywall, Castiel discovered, was much more wearying than the insulation. Still, it went pretty smoothly, sore muscles be damned. Castiel tried not to think about how well the two worked together, or how much he was actually starting to enjoy Dean’s company.

He told Dean about Gabe and Kali renewing their wedding vows last year during the Goa Carnival in India with Kali’s entire family in attendance, and about Zachary and Danielle attempting to teach him to play “Just Dance” on the Wii at Thanksgiving. Dean told Cas about Ben wanting to try out for baseball in the spring, and about Blake singing her ABCs nonstop last time he saw her.

Castiel couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed conversation with someone so much. Before he knew it the drywall was hung, and the room was starting to look like an actual family room instead of a construction site. It was more than a little exciting to see the room finally coming together. Cas got started on cleaning up while Dean mixed the mud.

“So, I figure we can probably get two coats on before we call it a day,” Dean declared after shutting off the mixer. “I can come back tomorrow to get another coat on if that’s okay. Or, you know, whenever works for you.”

“That should be fine. I don’t know how much assistance I’ll be able to offer, though. I don’t expect to be able to move much tomorrow.” Castiel was starting to appreciate that Dean came by his muscled arms honestly, and not from spending hours in the gym. He didn’t think his own muscles had ever gotten this much of a workout. “I’ll probably just be lying in bed all day with a tube of Ben-Gay and some aspirin.”

Dean laughed. “You’ll be fine, dude. Just take a hot shower tonight, and be sure to get up and move around some tomorrow. It’ll suck at first, but you won’t be as stiff.”

“You’re the expert. As you wish.”

“Did you just quote _The Princess Bride_ at me? Dude, I love that movie!”

“It’s one of my favorites. I saw it in college with Gabriel, and I’ve never quite been able to stop quoting it. My ex never got any of the references, though.”

“Hmph. Must be why he’s an ex. I mean, how could you not love that movie?” He handed Castiel a trowel. “You ready to get this wrapped up?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready for anything in my life,” Castiel groaned.

It didn’t take them long to get the mud and joint tape applied. Dean only had to fix a couple of Castiel’s spots.

“Okay, I say we call it a day. I’ll come back tomorrow afternoon and get the second coat done. This’ll probably take longer than usual to dry, since it’s winter, but I can set up a space heater before I go to speed things up.” Dean hesitated a little before continuing. “I may have to come back the next couple of nights too, to get a few more coats on, depending on how long it takes to dry. Hopefully by the middle of the week, at least, we’ll be ready to sand it down and prime and paint it.”

“Oh. Okay. Whatever you think is best.” Castiel hadn’t really expected the job to take that long; didn’t Dean originally tell him they’d have this wrapped up in a weekend? And Dean just offered to help him paint, too? Castiel didn’t think that had been part of the deal, but he found that he wasn’t annoyed at the prospect of seeing Dean again.

“The flooring won’t be delivered for a couple more weeks, so I’ll call you to set up a time to finish that off. We could probably get the floor, the baseboards, and the crown moulding done in a day or so. You’ll probably be back at school by then, right?”

“Yes. First week in January.”

“Okay. Well, I should probably get going,” Dean announced as he began packing up his tools. “I’ll leave all the mud and stuff here. Oh! I should get the space heater out of the truck. I’ll be right back.”

Dean jogged out to his truck, leaving Cas alone in his family room that almost looked like an actual family room now. What was happening? Was Dean Winchester really coming to his house again tomorrow? And the next day? And maybe the day after that? Then again later in January? And Cas wasn’t nervous, or apprehensive, or on the verge of some vomit-inducing ulcer at the prospect?

In the past, his first inclination would be to call Gabriel and get his brother’s opinion. But for the first time in his life, Cas found himself not wanting to question what was happening _. Just go with it, Castiel. So Dean Winchester might actually be a nice guy; stranger things have happened, right?_

“Alright, this should speed up the drying time.” Dean reappeared and set up the space heater. “I can stop by around 4. You want me to call you first?”

“No, that’s not necessary. I’ll be here. Just come on over.”

“Okay, will do.” Dean packed up the last of his tools and wheeled his tool chest toward the front door. “You did good today, Cas. You’re pretty handy, you know that?”

“And you’re a terrible liar, Dean,” Castiel laughed as he followed Dean out to his truck.

“Nah, I mean it. I bet I could have you building cabinets and bookcases in no time.” Dean packed up the truck and climbed in.

“Not if my poor arms have anything to say about it. I doubt I have the strength to pick up a screwdriver at this point.”

“Yeah?” Dean smiled. “Well, get some rest. If you haven’t got your health, you haven’t got anything.” He winked at Cas as he shut the door.

Despite his complete and utter exhaustion, Castiel found himself smiling as Dean pulled away. That was one of his favorite lines from _The Princess Bride_ , and Dean Winchester had just quoted it to him.

_This is crazy, you know._

_Just go with it, Castiel. And do get some rest._

 

* * *

 

There was one, maybe two completely blissful minutes the next morning after Castiel awoke. The sun came streaming through the French doors in his bedroom, bathing the room in golden highlights. The down comforter on his bed was warm and cozy and had kept the chill at bay all night long. He had even remembered to turn his alarm clock off the previous night, so he awoke naturally, completely rested and rejuvenated.

That was, until he rolled over to get out of bed.

Every twinge of aching muscle every time he tried to move reminded him just how unprepared he had been for the previous day’s work. But in all honesty, it could have been worse. He could not imagine how bad it would have been if Gabriel and Michael had been helping him instead of Dean. He’d probably be twice as sore and gotten only half the work done.

With a groan he forced himself to roll out of bed. A few pops and stretches, and he hit the shower. Coffee and ibuprofen were definitely next on the agenda.

Thankfully there was nothing pressing on his to-do list that couldn’t be put off until the next day. He settled down ever so gingerly on the sofa with a book and a heating pad.

Okay, seriously. First thing after Christmas was over, he was going to start running.

Castiel was two-thirds of the way though his novel when he was interrupted by a knock at the door. He stole a glance at the clock on the cable box; was it after 4:00 already? He made his way over to the door to let Dean in.

“Hey there, Cas. How you feeling?”

“I’m dying,” Castiel declared as he let Dean inside.

“You quoting _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off_ now?” Dean replied with a smirk.

“Not intentionally,” Cas groaned. “You want some tea or something?”

“Nah, man. I’m good. Look, if you want, I can get the second coat on myself. It’s no problem.”

“No, I’ll come help you. I should be moving around more anyway.”

Thankfully after they got the first coat sanded down the second coat went up fairly quickly, and Castiel felt himself loosening up a bit by the time they were done. Dean set up the space heater and offered to wait around for a bit to see if the second coat would be dry enough to add a third before he had to go.

“You want a beer while we’re waiting?” Cas inquired as he entered the kitchen.

“Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

“So, where’s Ben this afternoon?” Cas popped the top off a bottle and handed it to Dean.

“Thanks, man. He’s at Sammy and Sarah’s. He and Blake are gonna help make Christmas cookies. I’m heading over there for dinner after I leave here.”

“Sounds like fun.” Cas led Dean into the den to sit, as he still didn’t have a kitchen table.

Dean picked up Castiel’s book from the coffee table. “What’cha reading?”

“It’s James Rollins, from his Sigma Force series. I used to read them before I started my master’s, but I haven’t had much time the past few years to read just for fun. I’m trying to catch up now.”

“Oh. Hey, that’s cool.” Dean inspected the back cover of the book. “Looks pretty interesting.”

Cas watched as Dean set the book back down, his brows drawn together in contemplation. He opened his mouth a few times as if there was more that he wanted to say.

“Cas, can I ask you something?” Dean finally spoke up. “It’s kind of stupid, but I was just wondering.”

 _Here it comes_ , Castiel thought. _He wants to know what I thought about the letter. What am I gonna say? I still don’t completely know what I think about it_. “Um, sure. You can ask.”

“If you just moved in to this place, like, how come you don’t have boxes and shit everywhere? I mean, when Lisa and I bought our house we had boxes everywhere, for over a year.”

“I, uh, I sold most of my old stuff before I bought this place. I guess you could say I wanted a fresh start.”

Dean didn’t say anything in reply as Cas debated whether to continue. Screw it, he decided.

“I was living with someone before. We had been together for three years. One day I got back from taking my comps and discovered he had moved out. He had told me he was taking a business trip, and instead he moved out. No goodbye, no note, no nothing. I sold the condo and all of our stuff and bought this place.”

“No shit?” Dean gaped. “This the same guy who’s never seen _The Princess Bride_?”

“One and the same.”

“Jesus. What a fucking coward.”

Cas nodded in agreement and took another swig of his beer.

“Hey, Cas? Another stupid question?”

“Shoot.”

“What are comps?”

“Comprehensive exams. For my master’s degree. Comps are required to complete the degree and graduate.”

“No shit? So you finished? Good for you, man. That’s awesome.” Then Dean’s brow furrowed as Castiel’s words sank in. “Wait, so that’s when the fucker left you? While you were taking your exams to graduate?”

“Yes.” It still hurt to admit, all these months later.

“You know, my brother Sammy graduated law school a few years ago. Proudest fucking day of my life. I gotta tell you, if some asshole did that to him, ruined his graduation and shit all over his accomplishments like that, I don’t know what I’d do to ‘em.”

“Yes, it did rather put a damper on graduation. I ended up not going.”

“Yeah, I can imagine it would kinda ruin the day.” Dean paused, took a swig of his beer. “So, what’d you end up doing instead?”

“Actually, I spent the day installing insulation and hanging drywall in my new house.”

Dean almost spat out a mouthful of beer. “Are you shitting me? Yesterday was your graduation? And you didn’t fucking go? Why not? We could’a done this some other day.”

Castiel smiled. “To tell you the truth, those things are usually pretty boring. I felt this was a much more productive use of my time.”

They were quiet a long time, finishing their beers, alone in their thoughts.

“You know, my wife left me back in February,” Dean finally spoke. “Twelve years we were together. I just found out last month she’s getting remarried. The day we came to remove your tree, actually. She called me that morning. She’s got this new guy, this whole new family, and I still have no idea why she left me in the first place.”

Dean’s face remained stoic as he let out a shaky breath and continued. “I’m sorry about your guy leaving you like that. No one should have to go through that. You don’t deserve that.”

Castiel looked at Dean until finally Dean returned his stare. “Neither do you,” he replied gently.

And he meant it.

Neither one of them had brought up the letter all weekend. Maybe Dean thought it wasn’t his place. Maybe Dean was afraid of what Cas would say if he asked. But in that moment, even though Castiel had said the words “neither do you,” he realized what he actually meant was “I forgive you.”

He watched as Dean let those words sink in. Dean’s eyes slowly closed, and he let out a deep breath as his shoulders slumped over, like a huge weight had been removed. Castiel knew that Dean had understood.

“Thanks, man.”   

 

* * *

  

The next day when Dean arrived he handed Castiel a package clumsily wrapped in newspaper. He never was good at using that frou-frou stuff, ribbons or garland or whatever. As long as the thing was covered and there was a little suspense involved in uncovering it? Hey. Job done.

“Happy graduation, Cas.” This was a dumb idea. Cas was probably gonna hate it.

“Thank you, Dean. But you didn’t have to do this. You’re already helping me out enough as it is.”

“No, I wanted to.” Cause Cas’ revelation about getting dumped and skipping graduation to spend the day with Dean? That affected Dean more than he would ever admit, and he knew he had to do something to make it up to Cas. “Open it.”

Castiel’s brow furrowed, as if he couldn’t quite figure out what to make of the almost-box made out of wood. “Thank you, Dean. It’s…”

“It’s an organizer. You put it over the armrest on the sofa, and see here on the side, you can put your remote controls, or your book or whatever. And the top is flat, so it’ll hold a drink or something.” He really wanted to make something a little more elaborate, a little more useful, but this was sort of last-minute.

If he’d only had a little more time to plan and get supplies, he could have made Cas a whole friggin’ bookcase for his stuff. Hell, Dean could probably build half the furniture Cas had yet to buy. Dean shrugged, eyes on the floor. “I know it’s not much, but I had some leftover scraps, so.”

“I love it. This was very thoughtful. Thank you, Dean.”

Yeah, that was the kind of thing somebody said when they were trying to be polite and not say, “Your gift sucks. Thanks, but no thanks.”

But damn, if Cas didn’t go right over to his sofa to put the damn thing over the armrest, and then grab all of his remote controls off the coffee table and place them in the side compartment. “That’s remarkable! It’s so much more organized.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile. Cas was kind of a dork, wasn’t he? “Yeah, that’s why they call it an organizer.”

“Don’t be a smartass. And it fits perfectly. How did you do that?”

“Ancient Chinese secret,” Dean deadpanned.

Cas rolled his eyes.

“I measured it,” Dean explained. “While you were in the bathroom looking for ibuprofen.”

“Well, thank you. I love it.” Cas looked like he was about to lean in to give Dean a hug, but he stopped himself. Dean was slightly relieved, because that would be a little weird. It wasn’t as if he and Cas were friends or anything.

Wait, were they friends?

Surely not. It had only been a few days since he had been coming over to Cas’ house, and that was just for work. Yeah, he enjoyed the guy’s company and all. Dean had fully expected that this job would suck and be awkward and painful, and that he would just suffer through it, and then maybe his conscience would leave him alone. But instead he had actually had fun hanging out here, shooting the shit. That wasn’t something Dean usually did, at least not with guys who weren’t Sam. As it turned out, Cas was a pretty interesting guy.

And much nicer than Dean deserved.

“Well,” Dean clapped his hands together and cleared his throat before this turned into more of a chick-flick moment than it already was. “What do you say we get that last coat sanded down?”

“Sure thing.”

Dean pulled out the masks and sanding blocks that they had been using the past few days. This wouldn’t take very long at all; in fact, Cas probably could’ve done it by himself at this point. But Dean made a promise, and he was determined to see it through.

“We should probably wait ‘til tomorrow to start painting, though. Let the dust settle, you know, before we…”

“Tomorrow?” Castiel interrupted.

“Yeah. If we start tonight while there’s still plaster dust in the air you’ll get a crappy paint job. Plus cleanup’ll be easier if we wait.” Maybe Dean should have explained this part better before. Cas looked really confused.

“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, Dean.”

_Oh._

_That’s right._

Yeah, other people weren’t trying to forget all about Christmas. Other people were actually looking forward to it, and not trying to get through the week without thinking about how pathetic they were, how they were all alone, and how their son was spending the holiday with his new family.

“I’m sorry, but I have plans.” Castiel actually appeared apologetic.

“Oh, no. Hey, I just spaced out, lost track of the days, that’s all. This whole week’s been kind of a blur.” Dean tried to laugh it off. “Maybe those mud fumes are getting to me.”

“I don’t think we have any family plans for the day after Christmas, though. You could come over then. Why don’t I get your number? I can give you a call and let you know for sure.”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Fuck Dean’s life. Before this week he would have been able to lose himself in his new carpentry project to forget all about this stupid holiday. As it was, he’d barely even made a dent in that coffee table.

He hardly knew Cas. So why all of a sudden did he feel so let down that he wouldn’t get to hang out with the guy? Doing work for free? He put on his mask and safety goggles and turned back to the wall, determined to get this job done and forget all about the rest of it.

It didn’t take the two very long to get the walls smoothed out before Dean proclaimed them paint-worthy. If this had been a contract job for Dean, he would probably feel guilty about charging the customer for the full hour. But then again, if this was a job, he probably wouldn’t have had as much fun, either.

The fact was, he’d actually had fun with Cas and looked forward to coming here every day. Now his enjoyment was spliced with a twinge of disappointment that he wouldn’t get to have this for two more days. He didn’t quite know what to do with that.

So instead he did the only thing he could think of. “Well, that just about does it for today. I guess I’ll get going and let you…”

“You’re not going to stay for a beer?”

“Cas, we only worked for, not even an hour,” Dean replied, glancing at his watch. “That’s hardly beer-worthy.” _And now you’re turning down free beer? What was wrong with you?_

“I say it counts,” Cas insisted, heading towards the kitchen.

“Okay,” Dean shrugged. “You’re the boss, I guess.”

They sat down on the sofa, feet propped up on the coffee table. Cas reached beside him and pulled the TV remote from his new organizer. “This is very clever,” he marveled as he placed his beer on top and turned the TV on.

Dean smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”

Cas idly flipped through the channels, until a flash of outer space caught his and Dean’s attention.

“ _Star Wars_!” they both exclaimed simultaneously.

Forty-five minutes later, as Obi-Wan worked on getting the Death Star’s tractor beam out of commission while Luke and Leia fought off Imperial stormtroopers, Cas spoke up. “You wanna order a pizza?”

Hell, why not? Dean could definitely eat. “Sure.”

Cas paused the DVR and pulled out his phone.

Pizza, beer, and Star Wars? That’s gotta be something friends do, right?

 _Friends_ , Dean thought, smiling to himself as he watched Cas order a large meat lover’s. _Yeah, I could live with that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the fun/stress of writing has been researching every chapter to death. All of the locations and events in Lawrence were the result of hours of googling and looking at google earth street view. For the tree removal, I watched dozens of youtube videos. For this chapter, I read up on all of the construction that takes place, and I watched Star Wars. When I saw a flash of outer space that could have been what Dean and Cas saw when they channel surfed, I waited 45 minutes, and the scene listed above is the result. Yeah, I'm a nerd. lol


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas!

When the Milton siblings were younger, Christmas Eve was always spent putting up the tree and decorating the house during the day, and making beignets to devour during the evening. They would all pitch in, rolling out and cutting the dough while Adele manned the frying. John Denver and the Muppets’ Christmas album would usually play in the background while they devoured the fruits of their labor.

Christmas morning they would drink hot chocolate and open their presents one by one. No two presents were ever opened at the same time; that way everyone got to see every gift given and received. Then they would all remain in their pajamas until after they had demolished Adele’s signature breakfast casserole.

Gabriel was the first to move out after graduating high school, followed by Anna, and then Castiel. But every year they came home on Christmas Eve, put up the tree and decorated the house, and made beignets. And every year on Christmas morning they drank hot chocolate while opening their presents one by one, and stayed in their pajamas until after breakfast.

After their mother’s passing, Anna’s house became the customary gathering place for the holiday. The decorations had changed over the years, but they still had a few of their mother’s treasured ornaments. The salt dough ornaments they made when Castiel was three were mostly gone, but a few survived, like little Castiel’s handprint. The popsicle stick snowflake Gabriel made in the second grade was still there, as was the miniature needlepoint pillow Anna made during her needlepoint phase in junior high.

A few of their traditions had also changed over the years. The beignets were started earlier in the afternoon; twice as many had to be made now, since there were more Miltons. The hot chocolate on Christmas morning had evolved into a full hot chocolate bar set up on the dining room table, complete with an electric water kettle, large and small marshmallows, two kinds of whipped cream, and a jar of peppermint sticks for stirring. There were also now two kinds of breakfast casserole – Adele’s signature version, and a vegetarian one for Kali, which Castiel also loved.

But they all still opened their presents one at a time, and stayed in their pajamas until after breakfast. Some things would never change.

The Milton family traditions had long made Christmas one of Castiel’s favorite holidays, but this year seemed different. Better. More special, somehow. Finally the weight of the past few months seemed nonexistent, to the point that he didn’t have to remind himself to smile. The pall that had covered and muted everything was lifted, and for the first time in months Castiel found himself not just enjoying, but savoring, every moment. The smell of the tree was richer, the decorations more colorful. The beignets and the hot chocolate seemed to taste better. Watching his family open presents seemed more magical. Castiel couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed himself so much.

The thing about family, though, was that they noticed things like that.

Christmas afternoon, after presents were opened and wrapping paper thrown away, while Gabriel and Michael napped in the living room, Cas was in the kitchen with Anna and Kali preparing dinner. Well, it wasn’t so much “preparing dinner” as it was “Anna and Kali picking on Cas with some food in the general vicinity.”

“I’ve told you, Anna. There’s nothing to tell.” Castiel picked up another potato to peel.

“Come on, Cas. Something’s going on with you. You’ve been smiling all day…” Anna began.

“It _is_ Christmas,” Castiel interrupted. “Generally a day of fun and merriment. Smiling usually comes with the territory.”

“You know what I mean. This is the first time we’ve seen you since September that you haven’t looked like…” Anna paused, searching for the right word to describe Castiel’s lack of enthusiasm for life in general over the past few months.

“…like you wanted to jump off a bridge?” Kali supplied with a smirk. Anna always tried to be the tactful one; Kali was far more blunt. It was one of the things Cas loved best about her. Usually.

“I apologize if my getting dumped without warning or explanation put a damper on things. Perhaps for future breakups I will try to be more cheerful,” Castiel quipped.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Cas,” Anna admonished. “All I’m saying is, you don’t look like that anymore. You look happier. So whatever it is that’s putting that look on your face, keep doing it.”

“Or him,” Kali added.

“Kali!” Anna scolded. Her chastisement wasn’t enough to distract Kali, however, from the brief flash that crossed Castiel’s face at the mention of the word “him.”

“Castiel, you sneaky bastard! I’m right, aren’t I? You’ve met someone!” Kali exclaimed.

Castiel focused all of his attention on the potato in his hand as he felt his face flush. He was bound and determined that that potato was going to be the most thoroughly peeled specimen to go into the pot.

What was he supposed to say, really? _Yeah, I guess I met someone, but it’s not like that. Well, I didn’t just meet him, I knew him a long time ago, and he used to be a dick, but now he’s not. Now he’s different. Now he’s helping me finish the house, and he hand-made me a graduation gift, and we hang out and talk, and quote movies, and drink beer and eat pizza and watch Star Wars._

Yeah, when he put it like that, it sounded pretty ridiculous.

“He’s just a friend,” Castiel declared.

“Who’s just a friend?” Gabriel came in, yawning and idly scratching his ass.

Great. Cas really did not want to get into this right now, especially not with Gabriel. “No one,” he replied. Maybe they’d all just let it go if he willed it hard enough.

“Kali and I think Cas is seeing someone,” Anna piped up.

“I am not seeing someone,” Castiel groaned.

“No, Cas is most definitely not seeing someone,” Gabe agreed. Finally, someone was on Castiel’s side.

“He would’ve told me if he was. But you’re right; he has been in an unusually good mood. So that begs the question,” Gabriel posed, steepling his fingers together. “Who is this mystery friend that has our Cas smiling again?”

“Fine.” Castiel threw his potato into the pot and set down the peeler. “It’s Dean.”

“Dean? As in Winchester?” Gabe scoffed.

“Ooh! Who’s Dean Winchester?” Kali seemed to sense a juicy story.

Castiel was not about to give it to her.

No one but Gabe knew the truth, and Cas wanted to keep it that way. It was kind of in the past now, anyway wasn’t it?

“He is someone I used to know in high school,” Cas explained. “We were not friends back then. But recently we ran into each other, and it turns out he’s a contractor. He’s been helping me finish the house. That’s all.”

“No way, Cas,” Kali implored. “There’s gotta be more to it, the way you’ve been acting. Come on, what’s he like?”

“I remember Dean Winchester. He was cute,” Anna waggled her eyebrows.

“Be that as it may, he is a friend. Yes, everyone, I have made a friend.” Castiel loved his family, but good Lord, they were exasperating. “Is everybody happy now? Can we please change the subject?”

“Sure thing,” Gabriel nodded. “Hey, Cas? How’s the house coming?”

Castiel politely excused himself amidst the giggles of his siblings. Gabriel caught up with him in the dining room as he was fixing himself a mug of hot chocolate.

“Look, Cas, I know we’re giving you a hard time. I know these past few months haven’t been easy. But now you look, I don’t know, _lighter_. Like you’re not so weighed down by all this crap you’ve been carrying around. We’re just glad to see you back to your old self again.”

“Even if it means I might be friends with Dean?”

“Look, you certainly don’t need my approval to be friends with anyone,” Gabe declared. “But you’re a smart guy, and a good judge of character. You’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know, and you have this incredible capacity for forgiveness. You always have. So if you’re willing to put the past aside and be friends with this guy, after the way he treated you, that says something.”

“Thanks, Gabe.” Cas added a few more marshmallows to his mug and started back toward the kitchen.

“How is the house coming, anyway?” Gabriel inquired.

“Great. We’ve made a lot of progress this week. Dean is very knowledgeable; I’ve learned a lot working with him. We’ll probably be done painting by this weekend.” Cas grabbed his previous seat at the kitchen table and picked up another potato to peel. “The flooring won’t be delivered for a few more weeks still, but we should be completely done by the end of January at the latest.”

“So, are we all invited over for a housewarming party at the end of January?” Anna wondered.

“Yes,” Cas conceded. “I will have a housewarming party just as soon as the room is done. You are all invited.”

“You gonna have anywhere for us to sit at this party?” Gabe teased. “Or will your house still be completely devoid of any furniture whatsoever?”

“I’m not making any promises,” Cas deadpanned.

Later that night, after a Christmas feast that could’ve served two dozen people instead of the seven Miltons in attendance, Cas arrived at home with enough leftovers that he wouldn’t have to cook for a week. He threw his presents onto the sofa, packed his food into the fridge, and retreated to the bedroom to change into his flannel pajamas. There was just enough time to get a chapter or two of his James Rollins novel read before sleep would overtake him.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket before tossing his pants into the hamper and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the blank screen, pondering.

_Why not? It_ is _Christmas, after all._  

 

* * *

  

“Unca Dean! Unca Dean!” Dean had barely said hello to Sarah when he suddenly found himself with an armful of Doodlebug.

“Unca Dean! Come see!” Blake wiggled out of Dean’s grasp and grabbed him by the hand. “Santa C’aus got me a pin’cess woom!”

Dean followed as his niece led him down the hallway toward Sammy’s office. No, strike that. Sammy’s _old_ office was now pink, with a frilly princess bed and a frilly princess tent in the corner.

“An’ I got a big girl bed too! ‘At’s from Mommy an’ Daddy.”

“Wow. That’s a nice princess room. I guess you were a good girl this year, huh?”

“Uh huh! I sure was!”

Sam snickered from the doorway. “Well, most of the time.”

“Daddy, look! Unca Dean’s here!” Blake turned back toward Dean. “But ‘ess Ben?”

Shit, this was hard enough as it was, without having to explain to a 2-and-a-half-year-old why his own son couldn’t be there for Christmas.

Funny though, Blake never asked about Aunt Lisa. Sammy or Sarah must’ve handled that explanation a while back, thank goodness.

Dean and Lisa had agreed to an every-other holiday schedule; Ben would be with Lisa for Halloween and Christmas, and with Dean for Thanksgiving and New Year’s. It was Sarah’s idea to have New Year’s Eve be Second Christmas, which was when they would all be exchanging gifts with each other. If it hadn’t been for Blake, in fact, Dean was pretty sure that Sarah would’ve skipped First Christmas altogether.

“Sorry, Doodlebug. Ben can’t come today. But how about Ben and me come over next week, and we can have another Christmas party with you and Mommy and Daddy?”

“’Nother Christmas?” Blake’s eyes widened; she was clearly on board with that idea. “Wif’ more pe’sents?”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh. Hey, kid’s got her priorities. “Yeah, with more presents. Sound good?”

“Sound good,” Blake nodded in agreement and retreated into her princess tent.

Apparently the “show Uncle Dean my princess room” part of the evening was over. Dean stood up and glanced at Sam. “Well, I guess I’m dismissed, then.”

“Guess so,” Sam laughed. He came over to give his brother a hug. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“Merry Christmas, Sammy.” No matter how many years he and Sam had been getting together for Christmas since their dad’s death, it always felt a little weird to Dean. Once upon a time, when their mom was still alive, Christmas had been good. Normal. Presents, Santa Claus, stockings filled with candy and knick-knacks, the whole bit.

After Mary’s death, however, holidays with their father had always included a drunken John taking out his misery on one or the both of his sons. Or just not showing up altogether, leaving Dean and Sam to fend for themselves.

Dean had _almost_ gotten used to having a real Christmas once again with Sam and Sarah, Lisa and Ben. Nobody yelling. Nobody stumbling around drunk looking for a fight. Everybody enjoying each other’s company. Now, being here alone, without Lisa or Ben, it was back to being weird. Dean didn’t quite know what to do with himself. As it was, he’d spent the bulk of the past two days in his shop working on that new coffee table.

He wasn’t sure what Christmas was supposed to be anymore, but he was pretty positive it wasn’t supposed to be about being alone and miserable, which was what Dean was. Being at Sam’s house, basically being the fourth wheel at Sam and Sarah’s Christmas, just made him feel all the more alone and miserable.

Dean had a sneaking suspicion that that’s how their dad always felt since their mom’s passing. Knowing that didn’t make this day any easier, though.

“Come on,” Sam clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Let me get you some eggnog.”

“Now you’re talking.” Dean followed Sam into the kitchen. “So, how’s the law biz going?”

“Busy. Fortunately, we’re closed for a few days so I get a break.” Sam pulled the carton of eggnog from the refrigerator and filled a glass for Dean. He grabbed the bottle of rum off the counter and glanced at Dean, but Dean shook his head ‘no.’

Dean may have been miserable, but there was no way in hell he’d be taking his dad’s place as the miserable drunk at Christmas. Not around Sam or Sarah, at least, and certainly not around Blake. Later, when he was home alone? Different story.

“And by ‘break,’ he means he’ll be working here, at the kitchen table in his sweats, instead of at the office in a suit,” Sarah piped up.

“We do have a big case coming up,” Sam conceded. “But I promise I will not spend the entire week working.”

“Not with a toddler in the house, you won’t,” Dean teased. Just then, as if on cue, Blake came running into the kitchen.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Up! Up!” She held her arms over her head and Sam immediately complied, picking her up and holding her in one arm. She snuggled into his chest.

“Well, something sure smells good,” Dean commented as the oven timer buzzed, shaking off the twinge of jealousy he felt at the sight of Sam with his daughter. “What’s cookin’?”

Sarah opened the oven and pulled out two baking stones. “Homemade pizza.”

“Pizza? For Christmas dinner?” Not that Dean was complaining, because Sam and Sarah’s kitchen did smell like what heaven probably smelled like. But wasn’t that a little informal for the big JC’s birthday?

“I figured, since our Christmas isn’t gonna be until next week, then that makes today a regular old family get together. And that calls for homemade pizza. And chocolate chip cookies,” she added, uncovering a platter that Dean had not previously noticed, but that he was pretty sure he would now be unable to stay away from. Screw spoiling his dinner; he grabbed two cookies, demolishing the first one in one bite.

“Oh my god,” Dean moaned around a mouthful of warm, gooey, chocolatey goodness. “These are amazing.”

“I got to do the choc’ate chips, Unca Dean!” Blake piped up.

“You did? Well, that’s the best part. Good job, Doodlebug.” Dean winked at his niece and grabbed another cookie while Sarah cut the pizza.

Dinner with Blake at the table was always entertaining, to say the least. She knelt in her chair, since she was too small to sit in it properly and reach the table, and she adamantly refused to use a booster seat. She was a “big girl, Unca Dean,” after all.

Blake then proceeded to give her parents a play-by-play of every single thing that had happened that day, from the moment she woke up until the moment she sat down at the table to eat homemade pizza for dinner. Sam and Sarah just nodded along, asking questions every so often, as if they had not been right there with her the entire time.

Dean smiled, remembering how Ben used to do that when he was her age. He’d point out the most obvious things, as if he was the only one who noticed them. “Look, Daddy! I’m sitting next to Mommy!”

After way too many slices of some of the best pizza he had ever had, and more cookies than he probably should have dared, Sarah handed Dean another glass of eggnog. “We need to finish this jug and get this stuff out of the house,” she reasoned.

“Ugh. I don’t think I have any more room,” Dean complained.

“Man up, Dean,” Sam ordered, refilling his own glass.

“Shut up, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“So, Dean…” Sarah started.

“Mommy!”

“Baby, not now. I’m talking to Uncle Dean.”

“But Mommy, I wanna watch the train!”

“Okay.” Sarah looked at Dean and rolled her eyes while Sam looked on and laughed. “Her new favorite movie is The Polar Express. Early Christmas present from my parents. We’ve watched it at least a dozen times this week.”

Yeah, Dean remembered those days. When Ben was not much older than Blake his favorite movie was The Incredibles. At least it didn’t suck, though.

Not that The Polar Express sucked.

And not that Dean would even know that.

“So, Dean.” Sarah re-entered the kitchen, Blake now settled on the floor with her favorite movie. “How’s the furniture coming?”

“Not bad. I’m almost done, actually.” With two days’ work Dean nearly managed to finish his first piece. He pulled out his phone and showed Sarah a picture he’d taken. “A couple more coats of poly, and it’ll be finished.”

Sarah sat down at the kitchen table next to Sam, staring at the photo. She zoomed in, turned it this way and that way, examining every detail. It was a bit too much scrutiny for Dean’s taste.

“Come on, it can’t be that bad,” Dean remarked.

“Dean. This is gorgeous. Wow.” Sarah was almost breathless, unable to tear her eyes away from the photo.

Sam leaned in and looked over her shoulder. “It’s beautiful,” he conceded.

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Don’t sound so surprised. Besides, it’s just a coffee table. Took me less than two days.” He shrugged. “It’s not rocket science or anything.”

“Yeah, maybe. But Dean? People pay serious money for these,” Sarah insisted. “How much were you thinking of charging?”

“Well, the wood only cost me a couple hundred. So, I don’t know. Three, maybe four hundred?”

“No way,” Sam asserted. “I bet you could get double that.”

“Really? You think?” That seemed a little high to Dean, charging that much for just a couple days’ work. Not even work; spending time in his shop with his tools and a few slabs of wood was something he’d do for free.

“Let me do some research,” Sarah offered as she handed Dean’s phone back. “But I’ll bet Sam’s right. I think you’ll be able to get double that.”

Dean was doubtful, but there was no way Sarah would let this go. And if she said she would do some research, he had no doubt that she would spend every free moment looking at every furniture web site that she could find. She’d probably have a binder full of printouts by the end of the week, with colored tabs and everything.

“Okay.” Dean nodded his assent as Sarah tried to stifle a yawn. “I guess that’s my cue. I’ll leave you guys to it.”

“Dean, you don’t have to go,” Sam insisted.

“Nah, it’s getting late. I’ll see you guys next week.”

Dean leaned over the sofa where his niece was passed out in front her train movie and gave her a quick kiss, said goodbye to his brother and sister-in-law, and headed home. To his big, empty house. Alone.

It hadn’t been bothering him so much the past couple of weeks, being alone. He had started to get used to it, actually, albeit reluctantly. He really hoped this funk he was in was just a Christmas thing. Maybe talking to Ben would help.

As soon as Dean got home he threw his jacket on the sofa and pulled out his phone. He glanced at his watch; just after 9:00. Hopefully that wasn’t too late.

“Hello?” The deep male voice that picked up Lisa’s phone startled Dean. Guess he should start getting used to that, though.

“Hey, um,” he stopped, clearing his throat. “It’s Dean. Can I talk to Ben?”

The pause that followed was a little too long for Dean’s taste. He knew today wasn’t one of his days, but come on, it was Christmas for fuck’s sake. He should be able to talk to his own son.

“Sure. Hold on a sec.”

“Dad?”

“Hey, buddy. Merry Christmas!” He fought to keep the quiver out of his voice. “So, how’d you make out today?”

Dean just listened as Ben told him all about his first Christmas with his mom and his new almost-stepdad and almost-stepsister. It all seemed a little too Walton Family for Dean’s taste, singing carols and making s’mores by the fire, but Ben had a good time. He was happy. That was what mattered.

Even if it was someone else’s home that he was happy in.

Dean blinked back the tears that threatened to appear. “That’s great, Ben. That’s great. I’m glad you had fun.”

“I did. I missed you, though. I’m glad you called.”

“I missed you too.” Dean lost the fight for composure as one tear spilled over down his cheek. “But I’ll see you in a few days, right? And we’ll have our Second Christmas with Uncle Sammy and Aunt Sarah and Blake.”

“Can we play Rock Band?” Ben asked, hopeful. Sarah had spilled that she was getting Sam a Rock Band set for Christmas, which was all kinds of funny to Dean because Sam had no musical inclinations whatsoever.

“You bet we can. And we’ll kick your Uncle Sammy’s ass, too.”

“Of course we will,” Ben replied. “Because his hands are probably too big for the controls.”

Dean laughed, in spite of himself. Fuck, he loved that kid. “You’re probably right.”

“Dad, I gotta hang up. Warren says it’s time for bed.”

So soon? “Okay. I’ll see you next weekend.”

“Bye, Dad. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Dean barely got the words croaked out before the line went dead all too quickly. He buried his face in his hands and took a few deep breaths, struggling to regain control.

This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair. He had given everything to Lisa, and she just threw him aside for somebody else. Sure, it hadn’t been perfect. Far from it, in fact. They married young, they fought a lot, they had no idea what they were doing half the time. But they were family.

Now she went off and found a new family, and took their son with her.

Dean knew in his heart, as much as it pained him to admit, that he and Lisa were probably better off without each other. But that didn’t make it any easier to come home to an empty house on Christmas night.

Before he even realized what he was doing Dean found himself in the kitchen, searching the cabinets. He pulled out the bottle of Jack and a shot glass.

Suddenly his phone vibrated in his back pocket. An incoming text message alert showed on the screen. He clicked on it and smiled.

**From: Castiel Milton**

**Message: Merry Christmas, Dean. See you tomorrow. :)**

Dean stared at those words for several minutes. He finally clicked ‘reply’ and typed out a response.

**To: Castiel Milton**

**Message: Merry Christmas, Cas**

Dean returned the bottle back to the cabinet and headed to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a big family, I highly recommend a hot chocolate bar at Christmas.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's about time for some fluff, don't you think?

Castiel hated the cold. No, scratch that. He _loathed_ the cold. Why in the hell he ever decided to train for a marathon that was in friggin’ _April_ was beyond his comprehension. Because a race in April meant that he had to start training in January. And training in January meant that he had to run in the cold. And he loathed the cold.

He was insane. That’s all there was to it.

Fortunately, it was just an easy three-miler that day, according to the training calendar he’d downloaded off the internet. But when he got home and changed into his sweats for his run, a light freezing rain, _that there was only a thirty percent chance of, by the way, you asshole weatherman_ , began to fall. _Well, I guess it could be worse. At least the five-miler was yesterday._

By the weekend it should be sunny and in the mid-forties. Practically summertime. He couldn’t wait.

When he rounded the corner toward his house at the end of mile three, soaked to the bone from the rain that _did not let up one freaking little bit_ , Cas spotted a delivery truck in front of the house. The flooring was being delivered, thank God. Castiel ignored his rapidly freezing muscles and picked up his pace a little bit to meet the deliveryman, _who didn’t even freaking call first to say he was coming today_ , in the driveway. Just in time, too. Looked like the guy was about to drive off.

Several dozen boxes were unloaded into Castiel’s living room. Several dozen boxes which were wet with freezing rain. Perfect.

Castiel glanced at his watch as the truck pulled away. Almost 5:00. Enough time for a nice, long hot shower before Dean got there. Dean would know what to do about the wet boxes. Castiel just hoped he wouldn’t be too upset about not getting to watch Dr. Sexy first. After all, it wasn’t like they had planned on doing any work on the den tonight; the plan was just to hang out and watch some TV.

One hour later, Castiel was settled on the sofa with a mug of hot tea and his newest novel when Dean entered, knocking on the door as he opened it. Castiel had taken to just leaving the front door unlocked when Dean was due to come over.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean stopped short, noticing the pile of wet boxes. He set down the six-pack he brought with him and shed his jacket. “Well, crap. Looks like Dr. Sexy is gonna have to wait, huh?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Will the boards be okay, you think?”

“Yeah, they’ll be okay. We should get ‘em out of the boxes, though. You got a box cutter?”

“Somewhere. I’ll be right back.” Castiel grabbed the beer and went to the kitchen to search his junk drawer. Success!

Dean was smiling at his phone when Cas reentered the living room.

“Good news?”

“Nah. Message from Bobby, that’s all. Hey, you think I can borrow your charger, though? I’m almost outta juice.”

“Sure.” Cas didn’t have to tell Dean where to go look. He’d had to borrow Cas’ charger at least once a week since they had started hanging out.

One by one they opened each box and laid out the boards on the floor in the den to acclimate. Fortunately the boards were all dry. Also, fortunately, they matched the flooring in the rest of the house perfectly. Dean really did know what he was doing.

Not that Castiel doubted him anymore.

Unfortunately, though, that same morning had been Castiel’s garbage pickup, which meant he would be stuck with several dozen boxes’ worth of wet cardboard for another week. He and Dean piled the empty boxes on the front porch for the time being.

“So, how long do we need to let them acclimate before we can install them?” Castiel knew his siblings must be starting to doubt that they’d ever be invited over for that housewarming party. He had never imagined that finishing the room would drag on this long.

Not that Castiel was complaining about Dean still coming over.

In fact, they hadn’t worked on the room in weeks, since they finished painting two days after Christmas. Now Dean just came over to hang out and watch TV.

“I’d say at least a week. Maybe two to be on the safe side.” Dean handed Cas a beer as he sank down into his usual spot on the sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “Why, you tryin’ to get rid of me?” he added, eyes crinkling as he smirked at Cas.

“No, I know a hopeless cause when I see one,” Cas smiled back.

“So,” Dean continued, ignoring Castiel’s jibe, “Chinese tonight?”

“You read my mind.” Castiel knew it wasn’t the healthiest option, especially during training, but running in the rain and unloading his new flooring surely earned him a little leeway. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts; he’d added the number of his and Dean’s favorite place after the third time they’d ordered from there.

Cas placed their usual order – Mongolian beef and white rice for Dean, chicken with broccoli and brown rice for himself, plus half a dozen egg rolls – while Dean browsed the DVR queue looking for the Dr. Sexy episode that was surely now almost over.

When the knock sounded at the door twenty minutes later Dean jumped up first as Cas grabbed the remote to pause the DVR. “I got it, Cas. You paid last time.”

“Dean, you don’t have to do that.” Castiel reached for his wallet.

“I already told you. You paid last time. It’s my turn,” Dean insisted as he beat Cas to the door, handing his credit card to the delivery girl.

Cas pocketed his wallet and retreated to the kitchen to grab a couple of plates, when Dean’s phone vibrated loudly, rattling against the counter below. Cas instinctively looked down and saw a text message from someone named Jo showing on the screen. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop on Dean’s private message, but the words “Happy birthday, Dean!” caught his attention before he could stop himself.

Dean entered the kitchen and set the bags down, unloading cartons. “Next time, we eat _before_ we work. I’m starving.”

“Today is your birthday?” Cas blurted out.

“How did you…?” Dean started. He glanced down and noticed the message on his phone. “Oh.”

“And you weren’t going to say anything?”

“It’s no big deal, Cas.” Dean turned back to the cartons and spooned some rice onto his plate.

“Of course it’s a big deal. We should celebrate.” Cas’ brow furrowed as he tried to figure out why Dean would keep such a thing a secret. “You should have told me; I could’ve baked you a cake.”

“I really haven’t felt like celebrating. Look, I’ll probably just take Ben out for burgers or something this weekend.” Dean set down the rice and picked up his Mongolian beef. “And I’m not such a fan of cake, so, you know, it’s okay.”

“Or I could’ve cooked dinner for you. I’m a pretty good cook, you know. You should have a better birthday dinner than Chinese takeout.” He had a new recipe for mushroom risotto he was dying to try; this would have been the perfect opportunity. Wait, did Dean even like risotto? He probably would if there was a steak next to it, Cas decided. Next time, definitely.

“I happen to like Chinese takeout. It’s really okay, Cas.”

“Well, you at least should have let me pay.” Cas knew it wasn’t the same as a home-cooked meal, but at least it would have been more polite than having his friend buy his own dinner on his own birthday.

“No way. I told you; you paid last time,” Dean insisted.

“And I didn’t get you a present, either. What do you want?”

“Nothing. It’s okay. Really.” Dean set down the carton of beef and sighed, exasperation finally giving way to resignation. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No.” Cas paused, contemplating, the faint whisper of an idea niggling at the back of his mind. “Ooh! I know! I’ll be right back. Don’t eat yet.”

He returned two minutes later to see Dean polishing off what appeared to be his second eggroll.

“Dean,” Cas scowled, “I told you to wait.”

“What? I’m hungry,” Dean replied without apology, mouth still full. His eyes glanced downward, noticing the objects in Castiel’s hands. The look on Dean’s face suggested that he instantly regretted giving in to Castiel’s insistence at having a celebration. “Oh, my god, Cas. Are you serious?”

Castiel placed a party hat, hastily folded out of newspaper, on Dean’s head. “Very. You will wear this, and you will let me sing to you.” He placed a matching hat on his own head.

Dean held up his hands in submission. “Fine. You win.”

“Okay, now go grab your seat in the living room and I will bring your dinner out. Go,” he commanded. He knew there was a candle around here somewhere; Anna had given him a tea light votive in his Christmas stocking. The bottom of the junk drawer again yielded a successful search result. It was a little dirty, though. After a quick wash under the faucet Cas placed it on top of Dean’s plate and lit it.

“ _Happy birthday to you…”_ Cas sang as he entered the living room, dinner plates in hand. He stopped short, frowning when he saw Dean. “You’re not wearing your party hat.”

Dean rolled his eyes and donned his newspaper hat one again. “Happy now?”

“Yes.” Cas sang the birthday song once more and handed Dean his plate. “Now make a wish.”

“You are such a dork,” Dean commented. His eyes twinkled, though, betraying his exasperated façade. He closed his eyes and blew out his candle. “There. Can we finish Dr. Sexy now?”

“Was that your birthday wish?” Cas teased.

Dean picked up the remote and pressed ‘play.’ “I’ll never tell.”

They ate mostly in comfortable silence, Dean explaining plot points occasionally while he fast forwarded through the commercials. Cas had only started watching at the beginning of the current season, whereas Dean had never missed an episode.

“Your level of knowledge on the subject amazes me, Dean.”

“Hey, you have your area of expertise, I have mine.” Dean turned off the TV as the closing credits began to roll.

“You want any more? I think I have a little chicken left.” Cas stood up and grabbed their plates.

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, though.”

Castiel insisted on handling the cleanup himself, Dean being a guest and the birthday boy and all. He knew it was silly, since he hadn’t even known about it until half an hour prior, but he felt guilty for not giving Dean a better birthday. While he was rinsing off the dishes, Cas noticed the fortune cookies still sitting on the counter.

How could he possibly have forgotten the best part of ordering Chinese takeout? Okay, that was dessert taken care of, but what about a birthday present?

As he dried the plates and put them away, he wracked his brain trying to think of something to get Dean. Something he could buy online, maybe, since Dean would never let him slip out to go shopping.

Dean had said he didn’t feel like celebrating tonight. He had also seemed a little down after Christmas, not being able to see his son during the holiday. So, some sort of gift he can share with Ben, maybe? Castiel’s head snapped up as he suddenly realized what to get Dean for his birthday. He snuck into his bedroom and logged onto his laptop for a minute, printing out a gift receipt.

When Cas returned to the living room, Dean had turned the TV off and was browsing the pictures and books on the surrounding built-in shelves. Cas watched quietly for a minute as Dean thumbed through the Vonneguts and Heinleins and Orwells. Of all the things that Dean could have been doing on his birthday, of all the people in his life he could have been spending this day with, he was here at Castiel’s house, eating Chinese takeout and watching Dr. Sexy and looking at books. With Castiel. It was a little humbling.

As Cas stood there and watched which books Dean picked up, it astonished him that he and Dean apparently shared the same taste in literature. Yet, at the same time, it did not surprise him at all that Dean would be drawn to the dystopians. It made perfect sense, in a way. His friend was quite an enigma, and Cas found he enjoyed watching each new piece of the puzzle reveal itself.

“You’re welcome to borrow any of those,” Cas offered.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks. Maybe.” Dean picked up a Ray Bradbury book and scanned the back cover.

“Okay, this isn’t birthday cake, but it’ll have to do.” Cas tossed Dean a cookie.

Dean caught it easily in one hand. “Hey, thanks.”

He set the book down and opened his cookie, grinning. “It says, ‘you will have a pleasant surprise’.”

“Hm. An actual fortune instead of a cryptic bit of advice. That is a pleasant surprise.” Cas opened his and laughed. “Mine says, ‘you will be hungry again in one hour’.”

Dean smirked, eyes crinkling again. “Probably the most accurate fortune that ever existed.”

Cas set his fortune on the table and pulled the piece of paper from his back pocket. “Listen, Dean, I got you something. For your birthday, I mean. I know it’s last-minute…”

“Cas, you didn’t have to do that. I told you, it’s no big deal.”

“I wanted to.” He handed over the folded piece of paper, fresh off the printer in his bedroom. “I didn’t have time to wrap it or anything.”

Dean unfolded the paper, his eyes growing wide as he read the voucher for two admissions to the Worlds of Fun amusement park in Kansas City. “Are you serious? Cas, this is great!”

“I heard the other day that they’re adding a new ride for this season. I thought maybe you could take Ben.” Cas had decided his friend could use some father-son bonding with a little adrenaline thrown in for good measure. “I know how much you missed him at Christmas.”

“Wow. That’s… thanks.” Dean’s eyes looked a little misty as he folded the voucher back up and placed it in his wallet. He replaced the Bradbury book back on the shelf and leaned down, opening the lower cabinets to browse the DVD collection and continue his investigation of Castiel’s living room. Apparently Dean was intent on changing the subject from the topic of his birthday as much as possible. “Now, let’s see what you got down here. Wait… _Pretty in Pink_? _Sixteen Candles_? You got a thing for chick movies, huh?”

“I like John Hughes. You’ll see I also have _Weird Science_ and _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off_. And _The Breakfast Club_ , of course.”

“Yeah, but,” Dean paused, picking up another DVD case, “ _Some Kind of Wonderful_? Really? Am I gonna find _Mr. Mom_ down here too?”

“First of all, you can’t insinuate that I’m some chick-flick-loving weirdo when you also apparently knew that _Some Kind of Wonderful_ and _Mr. Mom_ were both John Hughes movies. Second of all, John Hughes was an immensely talented writer. He singlehandedly defined an entire genre of movies and was the voice of a generation.” Cas paused, shrugging. “I identified a lot with his characters when I was younger. He made losers and freaks like me feel… normal.”

“You’re not a loser, Cas.” Dean suddenly turned to face him. Dean’s gaze was penetrating, almost painful in its intensity. Castiel felt himself needing to look away, or that intensity might burn straight through him. “You never were. You know that, right?”

They still hadn’t spoken about the letter, and Cas really didn’t want to start now. Today was Dean’s birthday, whether Dean wanted to admit it or not; it wasn’t Castiel’s therapy session. Cas decided to ignore the personal nature of Dean’s comment and go for levity instead. “John Hughes also wrote _Vacation_ and _European Vacation_. See, where would this world be without Clark Griswold? Or, for that matter, what would road trips be without listening to ‘Holiday Road’?”

“Well, now, you have a point. Those are two movies I can get behind, even if that song is lame.” Dean stood up, turning toward the framed pictures on the upper shelves. He had never shown much interest in any of Cas’ things, other than the TV. Cas found it intriguing that Dean was being so inquisitive all of a sudden. He decided that he liked it; it meant that Dean was becoming comfortable in his space.

Dean picked up an old photo of a woman with long, red hair holding a toddler. The camera seemed to have been held at an angle when the photo was taken, giving the appearance that the woman was leaning over. “This your mom?”

“Yes. Gabriel took that picture. He was five.” Castiel smiled, remembering his mom telling the story of how Gabe had found her camera. Adele, holding a two-year-old Castiel on her hip, discovered Gabe in his room taking pictures of his toys when Gabe turned the camera on her. It was the only photo on the entire roll without Gabe’s toys in it. “That’s me she’s holding.”

“She’s beautiful,” Dean commented softly, running a finger across the photo. “You know, you look like her.”

“Thank you.” Castiel’s mother _was_ beautiful, and she always smelled like vanilla, and she slipped into speaking French when she was tired. “She died almost three years ago, and I still miss her.”

“My mom died when I was 12. Ovarian cancer. She was gone less than a year after they diagnosed her. My dad was never the same after that.”

Castiel could see the pain behind Dean’s eyes; losing his mom was clearly something that Dean never quite got over. He started to say something, offer his condolences, his empathy, but Dean put the photo back, picking up a stack of framed photos sitting on the top shelf. “Hey, what’re these?”

 _Crap_. Cas knew he shouldn’t have left those out.

“These are amazing, Cas. Where’d you get these?”

“They were a Christmas gift from Anna. I haven’t decided what to do with them yet. I was thinking about maybe reusing the frames with some old family photos, but I’m not sure.”

“No, you can’t get rid of these pictures. They’re awesome. You know what, you should hang them up in the den, when it’s finished. They’d look great in there.” He looked through the framed pictures again, one by one, stopping on a black and white photo of the Brooklyn Bridge. “This one’s cool. So, Anna took all of these?”

“No.” Castiel hesitated before continuing. “I did. Can you put them back, please?”

“You took these? Cas, these are really good. You can’t get rid of them. Why would you do that?”

Cas picked up his beer bottle to take a swig. It was empty. Damn. “They are a reminder of a time in my life I’m trying to forget.”

“Balthazar?”

“Yes. Anna found the photos in one of my old Facebook photo albums. She probably didn’t realize that the photos were all connected to Balthazar.” Cas knew that the photos were visually appealing on some level, and he appreciated his sister’s gesture. But, despite the fact that he was mostly over being dumped, he still wasn’t sure he wanted a daily reminder of it every time he looked at his wall. “They were all taken on trips we took together.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dean balked. “So, you’re telling me these are basically your vacation photos? Jesus, Cas, they look like postcards.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but I just don’t know.” Cas paused, staring at the floor. “I don’t know that I could ever look at them again without thinking about him.”

“Yeah, I get that. But don’t get rid of ‘em, huh? I don’t know what you should do with them, but you shouldn’t get rid of them.” Dean replaced the stack of frames on the top shelf. “We’ll think of something.”

Castiel nodded. “You want another beer?”

“Nah, man, I should probably get going. It’s getting late, and you need your beauty sleep,” Dean replied with a wink.

Cas found his eyes drawn to the faint white outline of a scar just above Dean’s eye, from Dean’s motorcycle accident junior year. He wanted to reach out and trace it with his fingertips. Instead he just smiled and nodded. “See you tomorrow?”

“No, I think I’m gonna stay in tomorrow. I’m working on another table for that web site Sarah found. She thinks I need to have a few more things done before I start trying to sell stuff.”

“Oh, okay.” Cas tried to hide his disappointment as Dean ran to the kitchen to grab his phone off the charger. He’d had more fun tonight than he thought he would, and now he probably wouldn’t see Dean again until next week.

“You know, that fortune cookie was right,” Dean commented as he returned, grabbing his jacket.

“Yours or mine?”

“Mine.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket. “I did get a pleasant surprise tonight.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.” Dean opened the front door and stepped out into the chilly night air. “G’night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.” Cas watched as Dean climbed into the Impala.

“Me, too,” he whispered to himself as Dean drove away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I almost forgot my weekly update! It's weirdly fitting, though, since I almost forgot Dean's birthday when I started writing this chapter. Thank you all so much for your kind comments and words of encouragement. It helps more than you know.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little sexual tension, quoting of canon, quoting of Real Genius, and a shameless James Rollins plug.

Castiel wasn’t one who would normally confess such a thing. His normal M.O. would be to pretend everything was okay, never letting on that there was something bothering him. He had spent so much of his life feeling like he was teetering on the edge of being a failure, but he would never _ever_ admit it out loud, or outwardly portray defeat in any way, shape, or form.

So for him to ask for help when something was kicking his ass? Forget it. Because asking for help was basically the same as admitting failure, right? ‘Fake it ‘til you make it’ was his motto. Well, not in those words, exactly, but you get the idea.

In this case, though? He had to admit. He needed help.

The Saturday long runs. There was no other term for it; they were kicking his ass. Not in the sense that he couldn’t complete them. No, he was still doing pretty well at keeping on pace, and the joint pain afterward was thus far at a minimum. No, what was getting difficult was the sheer boredom.

Cas wasn’t one to bring an iPod or anything to distract him; he knew from his old running days that the more he concentrated on his form and his breathing, the more productive his training would be. But there was only so much counting of breaths or cadence that he could tolerate. Ninety minutes in, it would get pretty tiresome.

He needed help. Someone to run with. Or a group. Something. Anything.

When he finally discovered that the local running store, Run Like Hell, sponsored a training group, he couldn’t believe that it hadn’t occurred to him to check it out sooner. Fortunately they had started their training around the same time he had, so he wouldn’t be too far behind. Plus the group was free; all he had to do was stop by the store and sign a waiver.

Two days after signing up, when his alarm went off at 6 a.m., _way_ too early for a civilized person to be awake on a Saturday, he started to reconsider. _Who in the hell decides to run a marathon anyway? Crazy people, that’s who. Crazy people who don’t get to sleep._

But no. Not a failure. Not admitting defeat. Not one month into training, anyway.

One hour later, after coffee, carbs, and a shower, Cas arrived at Run Like Hell slightly more awake and feeling better. Sure, it was cold as balls outside, and it was still dark. But at least he’d get to see the sunrise. And, he had his new thermal running pants on, which at first he couldn’t believe he let that good-looking blond guy in the running store talk him into purchasing.

But now? Cas wanted to find that guy and kiss him.

His new pants were skin-tight and left very little to the imagination, but they were surprisingly effective at keeping the chill at bay. And apparently everyone else there was wearing something similar, so Castiel didn’t feel quite so uneasy having every contour of his lower body outlined for all to see.

Wait a second. Holy crap. Would that hot blond guy be here today? Cas couldn’t believe the thought hadn’t occurred to him before now; he hadn’t asked much about the group the other day except when and where to show up and how many miles they’d cover. Okay, now he was nervous. The tension mounted as he entered the store and glanced around amongst the faces gathered, searching for the man he half hoped was here and half hoped he’d never see again.

Not spotting any cute blond guys, Cas settled in at the store’s checkout counter to get a few stretches in, when he caught sight of a petite brunette with a pony tail out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey there, handsome. How’s my favorite client?” she purred.

Cas turned around, momentarily speechless when he recognized her. Well, this was unexpected.

“What’s the matter, cutie? Never seen a girl in tight pants before?” she smirked.

Cas laughed, his anxiety from before easing suddenly. He was so glad she was here. “It’s good to see you, Pamela.” He reached out to give her a hug. “No, I’m just surprised to see you, is all. I didn’t know you were a runner.”

“Yeah, I do the half every year. What about you? I didn’t figure you for the athletic type either.”

“I used to do cross country in high school and college. I figured this would be a good time to cross the marathon off my bucket list, since I have all this free time now.”

“Well, you’ll love this group. They’re good people,” Pamela assured him. “Now if you’ll excuse me for a second, I gotta run to the little girls’ room before we get started. I’ll catch up with you later.”

There were only a few minutes left before the run, so Cas grabbed the counter again for balance to begin some quad stretches. He felt the clap of a hand on his shoulder and heard a familiar voice, the one that he had been hoping to hear all morning and now wished he hadn’t heard at all. “Hey, you made it,” the guy greeted him.

Cas pivoted around on his standing leg, a move that he would freely admit he would have fumbled the hell out of had he not already been holding onto the countertop. He found himself, sure enough, face to face with the good-looking blond guy from the other day.

The good-looking blond guy who had flirted with Castiel and convinced him to spend $70 on skin-tight thermal running pants, when Cas had only walked into the store to sign a freaking waiver to join the training group.

The good-looking blond guy who was also wearing skin-tight running pants.

_Oh, God. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look down._

Oh, this was bad. This was very bad. This was about to be Jennifer-Grey-Telling-Patrick-Swayze “I-Carried-A-Watermelon” bad. And, Jesus Christ, two minutes ago wasn’t he telling himself he could kiss this guy? He released his quad stretch. It would probably be best to remain on two feet for the remainder of this conversation.

He really needed some more manly internal movie references, too.

But Patrick Swayze, though, right? Swayze always gets a pass. That’s what Dean said.

“Yes, I made it,” Castiel managed to croak out. He wasn’t sure at that moment which was more difficult; keeping his eyes front and center, or taking his comps last year. “Thank you again for letting me join late.”

“No problem. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name the other day.” The guy quirked his brow as he spoke. Cas felt his pulse quicken and his mouth go dry.

Why was this guy affecting him so much? All he had done was smile and wink at Cas a little, throw in a few more-than-friendly innuendos, and that was probably just to make a sale. It’s not like he’d really be interested in anything more. And Cas was so out of practice, he’d certainly find a way to screw it up anyway.

“It’s Castiel. Or Cas. Either one,” he managed to stammer out.

“Welcome to the group, Cas. I’m Lucifer. I own this store, and the other one across town.” He held out his hand. Cas was gonna have to shake his hand. Cas was going to have to voluntarily touch this guy. In public.

“Nice to meet you.” Cas reluctantly took his hand and shook it. Lucifer had warm hands and a firm handshake that very obviously did _not_ linger a moment longer than necessary. Cas didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

And then it hit him. _Lucifer. Run Like Hell. Okay, that’s kinda clever_.

“Well, listen, if you need any more running gear, members of the training group get a 10% discount. Feel free to stop by any time,” Lucifer offered.

Was he flirting again? Maybe he was just being friendly. Oh, God, what if he was just being friendly? Cas had probably just imagined the whole flirting thing the other day, and now he was getting all worked up over this _(smoking hot, extremely fuckable, probably straight)_ guy for nothing.

“Hey, Lucifer. Come look at this,” a voice called out from the rear of the store.

“Excuse me, I’m being summoned.” Lucifer rolled his eyes and turned to leave. “I’ll catch you later.”

Pamela returned and handed Cas a cup of water. “So, I see you met Lucifer. He’s something, ain’t he?”

She was right. He _was_ something; Cas just didn’t quite know what yet.

Before he could answer, Cas was interrupted by a loud whistle, sharp and shrill. He turned around just in time to see Lucifer removing his thumb and index finger from his mouth. Lucifer was _not_ attractive in the slightest, standing there in his skintight black pants, his fingertips glistening with saliva and his tongue darting out to sweep across his lower lip.

Nope, not attractive at all.

And there most certainly was _not_ a mental image suddenly popping into Castiel’s mind of those lips stretched out over something other than Lucifer’s own fingers.

Jesus, this was gonna be a long morning.

“Okay, today’s gonna be an easy one,” Lucifer commanded. “It’s a five-mile loop, straight out-and back. Just cross and turn back at Madison. Half marathoners do one loop, full marathoners do two. Bill and Stephen will lead, Nick will bring up the rear, and Janet and I will be in the middle. We’ll have a water stop at the turn around, and one here in the parking lot. Everybody ready? Okay, let’s do it.”

Okay, running. Castiel could handle this. He exited the store with the group and soon fell into an easy stride beside Pamela. She was a great running partner, keeping a steady pace and keeping Castiel entertained and distracted from the cold. They chatted almost nonstop, Pamela telling him about the new guy she was seeing and the rich client who was driving her crazy. Cas told her about the house, getting the tree removed and finishing off the den with Dean.

By the time they reached the turnaround point, Cas could feel his muscles thawing and loosening up, the earlier tension from meeting Lucifer forgotten. They skipped the water stop and crossed the street, heading back toward the store.

As they neared the end of the loop, the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the sky. It wasn’t often that Castiel got to watch the sunrise; usually he just caught a glimpse from behind the windshield of his Accord as he drove in to work. But watching the whole process start to finish? Castiel was glad he came. Definitely worth getting up at the ass crack of dawn in the freezing cold for.

They crossed the street in front of the store and Cas said a very brief goodbye as Pamela headed toward the parking lot to the water cooler. Cas turned away from the sunrise to complete one more loop, a little saddened now that he wouldn’t have his new running buddy to keep him company. Funny how he had been training alone this whole time; how almost an hour ago he hadn’t seen Pamela in almost 4 months, and even then they hadn’t known each other very long.

But now? The thought of completing the last loop by himself seemed so… lonely. He wished he had taken the time to meet some of the others in the group so he’d have some company for the second half of his run. As it was, most of the runners still on the course were far ahead of him.

Cas heard a second set of footfalls approach his own, thank God, and turned to see who his new companion would be for the second loop.

“It’s Cas, right?” Lucifer inquired. “Mind if I join you?”

He was gonna have to be more careful what he wished for. Suddenly the thought of running alone seemed infinitely better than running with someone who may or may not have been coming on to him, but either way made him feel completely on edge. But what was he supposed to say? No, I’d rather run by myself? It was a training group, for God’s sake. Not wanting to run alone was why he had come here in the first place.

“Not at all,” he lied. “So, are you running the full or the half?”

“The full. I did it last year, and I usually alternate, but they asked me to lead the 4:30 pace group this year, so I’m doing it again. What about you? This your first full?”

“Yes,” Cas replied. “I used to run years ago. Thought it would be a good time to get back into it.”

“So what made you want to do a full marathon right off the bat? Why not do a half? Or just run for recreation, or exercise?”

 _Well,_ Castiel pondered, _I spent every free moment the last three years working my ass off for a master’s degree because the love of my life thought it would be a good idea, only he walked out on me and left me alone and broken, and some nights the quiet solitude was so oppressive I couldn’t breathe, so I thought doing this would keep my mind off things, only now I have a friend who’s sorta been through the same thing, so I don’t feel quite so alone and broken anymore, and I’m finally at a place where I’m comfortable with my new life, but I’m still not used to having all this free time on my hands. Does that answer your question?_

“I don’t know,” Cas shrugged. “Go big or go home, I guess. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve been doing this training group almost 10 years now, ever since we first opened. We’ve got people who come back every year, and some who come once and we never see again. But the variety of people who are drawn to the marathon, it always amazes me. I find it fascinating, what makes people want to do this,” Lucifer commented. “So, what do you do when you’re not running?”

“I teach history and government at Garrison,” Cas replied. And that was pretty much it, the sum total of his life at the moment. What else did he do, really? Hang out with Gabriel, hang out with Dean? It sounded pretty pathetic, now that he thought about it. “In my spare time, I guess I read, mostly.”

“What are you reading right now?”

“I’m working my way through James Rollins’ Sigma Force series. I’ve got two more before I’m caught up. Beyond that, I’d appreciate a recommendation, if you have one.”

“The store and the training group keep me pretty busy, so I don’t have much time to read. But I’ll keep my ears peeled. If I hear of anything good, I’ll let you know,” Lucifer replied.

They finished the loop, side by side at an easy pace, conversing comfortably the whole way. Cas was struck by how, just, _friendly_ it all was. He thoroughly enjoyed Lucifer’s company, surprisingly enough, but there was absolutely no trace of the flirtatious guy that he had met that first day.

So, maybe it was all just to make a sale. Well, no matter. At least the pants were worth the money.

As the storefront came nearer and nearer in their sights, Cas was feeling calm and relaxed, despite the increasing burn in his muscles. All in all, he was glad he had come. It was great seeing Pamela again, and he had actually enjoyed running with Lucifer, the earlier uneasiness he felt in the man’s presence all but forgotten. This was certainly better than running 10 miles alone.

Cas and Lucifer crossed the street into the store’s parking lot, making a beeline for the water cooler. Lucifer chatted with the other runners as Cas downed two cups of water, exhaustion starting to set in. He could feel the sweat on his skin beginning to dry, leaving a thin dusting of salt in its wake. The shower was definitely calling; he’d probably stay in there for an hour or so.

Lucifer made his way back over toward Castiel, pouring himself another cupful of water. “You did good today, Cas. You’ve got a nice, even pace. I think you’ll do well.”

“Thank you,” Cas replied. “And I appreciate you running with me. I had a good time.”

“Well, after Pamela left, you looked lonely,” Lucifer smiled. “I couldn’t let it get back to her that I left her boyfriend to fend for himself on his first training run.”

Wait, boyfriend? Did Lucifer think he and Pamela were dating? Where did he get that idea? “I’m not… she’s just… She’s not my girlfriend. I’m gay,” he blurted out.

 _Well, that was eloquently put. Well done, Castiel_.

Lucifer was silent a moment, his brow furrowed. “I thought… I saw you two, before the run. The way she hugged you. I thought you two were together.”

“No, she’s my realtor,” Cas explained. “She sold me my house, and helped me through a tough time a few months ago. She’s just a friend.”

He saw the change in Lucifer’s expression almost instantly. Gone was the friendly, easygoing façade that was present during their run, that devilish demeanor from the other day now taking its place. Lucifer tossed his cup into the trash and stepped closer. Cas sucked in a breath, catching Lucifer’s scent, a mixture of sweat and salt and musk that should not have been that much of a turn-on in his current state of exhaustion.

“So, not your girlfriend, then?” Lucifer quirked one eyebrow in inquiry, his lips smirking just the tiniest little bit. Cas felt his heart drop down into his stomach.

“No,” he gulped. “Not my girlfriend.”

“So, you’re single, then?” Lucifer took another step closer. His breath was warm and intoxicating.

“Yes,” was all Cas managed to get out. He wondered if the other runners were watching them, noticing how intimately close Lucifer was.

“You mean I could have been flirting with you this whole time? Damn. Kinda feels like I wasted my morning now.” Cas felt his cheeks flush as a shiver ran down his spine; he was absolutely certain that Lucifer noticed it too, and he cursed himself for being so transparent. Lucifer gave Castiel a quick wink before he turned all too suddenly and walked toward the storefront. “See you next week, Cas,” he called out before he shut the door behind him, leaving Castiel shaky and breathing heavily and half-hard.

 

* * *

 

It was stupid, really. Dean didn’t know why he was so nervous. It was just Cas coming over for pizza and a movie. But so far when they’ve hung out they’ve always met at Cas’ house. It just got to be the routine, working on Cas’ den for so long, that even after the room was practically done, they kept hanging out there.

Now that the room was completely done, though, Dean thought it was time he reciprocated his friend’s hospitality. And when he found out that Cas had never seen _Fight Club_ , it became a moral imperative that Dean remedy that grave error right away. So that meant that Cas was coming over to Dean’s place. In and of itself, not an occurrence worthy of apprehension. But Cas also wanted to see the pieces Dean had been working on for his new furniture web site.

Dean didn’t know why it made him so nervous, the thought of showing Cas his stuff. He had been building for almost a decade, and doing custom cabinetry and woodwork about half that time. But the furniture? That was something new, and it was way more personal.

He knew he could handle it if his pieces didn’t sell; in fact, it was more likely than not that his web site wouldn’t get any hits at all, and that the ones he did get probably wouldn’t result in any sales. He was fully prepared that this little venture wouldn’t go anywhere. But Dean still put his heart and soul into each piece he’d made so far, more so than he did making kitchen and bathroom cabinets. What if Cas didn’t like them, or thought they were stupid, or bland, or boring?

Would that mean Cas also thought that Dean was stupid, or bland or boring? He couldn’t let himself think about that possibility.

Instead, he spent the afternoon doing the only thing that would take his mind off everything – working in his shop. Yeah, the irony wasn’t lost on him at all. His current project was a new console table with a Mondrian-inspired inlay design he’d sketched out. He had never done an inlay before; he’d been wanting to try it for a while, and he was pretty excited. Plus the level of concentration and precision required to measure, cut, sand, and stain the insert pieces would definitely drown out the inferiority complex that threatened to take over, at least until Cas showed up.

Dean became so absorbed in working on the table that he completely missed the fact that it was past time for Cas to come over. That is, until Cas suddenly appeared at his side, just as he was about to make a cut with his miter saw.

“Jesus, Cas!” Dean jumped, the blade barely missing his hand as he let go. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I apologize, Dean. I was worried when you didn’t answer the door. I heard the noise back here and thought I’d come look for you.”

“Sorry.” Dean glanced at his watch. Ten minutes past. “Geez, Cas, I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”

“Forget it. So, what are you working on?” Cas glanced around the cuts of wood on the workbench and thumbed through Dean’s drawings.

“Nothing. It’s just a few sketches,” Dean dismissed, gathering the papers together.

He glanced up and immediately felt guilty at seeing the hopeful expression on Cas’ face. Okay, fine. He _did_ say he’d show Cas his stuff. _Now or never, here goes nothing, and all that._ “It’s uh, it’s a console table,” he admitted, handing over one of the designs. “You know, like you put in the entryway, throw your keys on and stuff. I’m doing the table out of maple, and this design here, that’s gonna be an inlay on the top in a dark mahogany.”

Dean shrugged, running a hand through his hair. Cas was taking a long damn time looking at that sketch and not saying a whole hell of a lot, so Dean continued. He knew he was babbling, but he just couldn’t stop himself. “I don’t know. I’ve never done an inlay before, so I had to do some research. Seemed pretty straightforward, so I thought I’d give it a shot. It’ll take more work than the other tables I’ve done, but…”

“Dean,” Cas interrupted, looking up from the sketch and locking eyes with Dean. Dean had never seen Cas look at him with such fondness before; he didn’t quite know how to take it. “It’s going to be beautiful. I love this design, too,” he added looking back at the drawing. “Did you do this? It almost looks like Mondrian.”

“It is. Or inspired by him, anyway. I don’t know much about art, but I saw one of those paintings once, and I don’t know. I like the clean lines. It’s simple, straightforward.” Dean smiled. He couldn’t believe he was standing here talking about art with Cas. It was weird. But, you know, _good_ weird. Cas not only liked his design, but also recognized its influence.

“And the contrast between the light maple and the dark mahogany is also in keeping with De Stijl design,” Cas continued. “This is beautiful, Dean. I can’t wait to see it when it’s finished.”

Dean could feel the blush creeping up his face. It was just a table, for Pete’s sake, nothing special. “I don’t know if this stuff’ll even sell, though,” he dismissed. “This whole thing will probably end up being a waste of time anyway.”

“You worry too much. I imagine Sarah has all kinds of ideas for the web site; I bet you’ll do a lot better than you expect. Plus, you’re doing something you love. That’s never a waste of time.” Cas stared at him again, that same look of fondness softening his face. It was almost more than Dean could take, and he was glad when Cas looked away first. “Now what do you say we go inside? It’s chilly out here. I don’t know how you stand it.”

“Sure, come on. I’ll give you the grand tour.” Dean unplugged the saw and packed his sketches away. He and Cas stepped out into the back yard to head toward the house. “You’ll have to come back one day when it’s daylight out so you can see the boards we cut from your tree.”

“Oh, yeah. I had forgotten all about those. I’d love to see them some time.” Cas followed Dean through the back door into the large eat-in kitchen. “So, what do you think you’ll do with them?”

Dean opened the refrigerator and removed two beers, handing one to Cas. Cas took a seat at the banquette seat around the table, so Dean joined him, sitting on the opposite side. “I haven’t decided yet. They still have to dry some more, so they won’t be ready to build with for a month or two, at least. I don’t know; maybe a table or something for the web site.”

Cas nodded, taking a swig of his beer. He was silent for a moment, looking down at his lap, brow furrowed in thought. Dean was about to ask what had Cas so worried all of a sudden, when Cas spoke up. “Dean, did you build this?”

Oh. Cas must’ve been looking at the bench seats, not at his lap. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. I built most of this room, in fact. I did all the cabinets,” he pointed toward the kitchen area, punctuating with his beer bottle, “and the seats here, and this table. Plus the built-in shelves in the living room, the cabinets in both bathrooms, and the master closet. Yeah, this house looked a lot different when we first moved in.”

Cas looked at Dean, something akin to awe and wonder on his face. Dean really wished Cas wouldn’t look at him like that; it was beginning to unnerve him, and it was making his heart beat a little too fast for his liking. It was just a few cabinets, really, nothing he hadn’t done every day for the past ten years at his job. But Cas just stared at him, eyes blue and bright and unblinking, like Dean had just revealed he’d painted the Sistine Chapel, or built Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater house.

“You built all of this?” Cas wondered. “Your talent never ceases to amaze me.”

“Nah, it’s nothing.” Dean stood up from the table, waving off Cas’ remarks. Dean never was very good at taking a compliment to begin with. First the sketches of his new table, and now this? It was too much. He really needed Cas to stop, or his heart was gonna beat out of his chest. “Cabinets are easy; they’re just boxes, really. I bet you could even do ‘em.”

“Nevertheless, Dean, I…”

“Forget it, Cas. Hey, you ready to order? I’m starving.” He wasn’t really. But he knew if he didn’t change the subject soon, Cas would remember that Dean had promised him a grand tour, and every single room in the house contained something that Dean had either built or made or installed himself. Even the spare bedroom, which was once Lisa’s yoga room, now held several of the live-edge tables that Dean built to sell online.

Dean’s entire house was one giant monument to his skill as a carpenter. Normally he didn’t mind showing it off, because it usually resulted in drumming up more business. But tonight? He just wasn’t sure he could take any more of Cas’ praise or unwavering blue-eyed stares. Hell, even Lisa never looked at him with that much warmth and admiration when he built something. It was making him feel extremely uneasy, and he didn’t like feeling uneasy in his own home.

Meat lover’s, beer, and Tyler Durden. That’s what this night needed more of.

It wasn’t until midway through the movie that Dean began to calm down a little. He had seen this movie so many times that he practically knew it by heart; the dialogue that he had long-ago memorized, along with a few on-screen testosterone-fueled fights, and pretty soon the internal discomfort that had threatened to bubble to the surface earlier began to fade away until Dean was completely lost in the story. He propped his legs up on the coffee table and stretched his arms out over the back of the sofa, his earlier freak-out completely forgotten.

Dean glanced over at Cas, who appeared to be thoroughly wrapped up in the story. He had known that Cas liking this movie was kind of a long shot; it was violent and vulgar, and he wasn’t really sure if that was Cas’ thing. But Brad Pitt, right? Brad was a good-looking dude, and Cas liked dudes, so he figured if nothing else, Cas would at least enjoy that much.

But Cas, God love him, knew this was something Dean loved, and tried his damndest not just to watch it, but to understand it and appreciate it as well. For Dean.

Dean realized all of this like a shot to the heart when he glanced over at Cas again and saw him laughing at something on screen, all twinkling blue eyes and crinkled nose and gummy smile. Suddenly all Dean wanted to do was to reach his hand up, his hand that was currently resting on the back of the sofa just inches from Cas’ head, and thread his fingers through Cas’ hair. His hand itched to move that small distance until his fingers were tangled in Cas’ soft locks, just barely caressing Cas’ scalp until Cas shivered and moaned and leaned into the touch.

His hand was _right there_. It wouldn’t take much to close the distance.

Dean’s eyes grew wide as it suddenly hit him what he was sitting there thinking.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wasn't going to give Lucifer's store a name, but it popped in my head one day and I couldn't make it go away. I've been dying for fanart of a store logo ever since. If any of you can recommend an artist, I'd appreciate it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is where the rating starts to go up.

It was nothing, Dean insisted. Nothing. Nothing was wrong. Nothing at all.

It was nothing the day after _Fight Club_ when Dean took Ben over to Sam and Sarah’s for dinner and barely said a word all night. Even after Sarah showed Dean her ideas for his web site and offered to photograph his pieces and make them all artsy looking and shit. Not that he wasn’t excited about this thing finally coming together; he was. He just wasn’t feeling well. It was nothing.

It was nothing later that week when he and Victor were installing some kitchen cabinets for a house remodel and Dean dropped his hammer not once, not twice, but three times, and damn near broke his toe. He just overslept and missed breakfast, that’s all. It was nothing.

It was nothing that following Saturday when he was doing a job with Benny and almost missed a tree branch falling on his head. He just looked away for a second as Andy let the branch loose because he thought he saw a wasp or something. He was fine. It was nothing.

It was nothing when Lisa called to let him know when her wedding date was, and to ask if it was okay if Ben stayed with her parents that weekend so they could do family stuff. Of course, she didn’t expect Dean to go along with it; she expected a fight. She didn’t get one.

No, nothing was wrong. He was fine.

It was nothing when Sam came by with the legal paperwork for Dean’s new business; according to Sam, he should sell his furniture under a separate business umbrella, so that just in case this venture failed, it wouldn’t affect his other company. All Dean needed to do was think of a name for his new business. Dean couldn’t think of a name; not now. He just had a lot on his mind, with his two other jobs and all. It was nothing.

It was nothing when Cas texted him on three different nights over the following weeks wondering when Dean could come over for dinner. Cas had some new recipe he wanted to try out, some mushroom thing. Dean wasn’t avoiding Cas, he was just busy with work and the new web site. It was nothing.

Dean appreciated that everyone in his life was concerned about his well-being, really he did. But he was fine. Nothing was wrong. It was nothing, really.

So, he had some stray romantic thoughts about his best friend. That wasn’t a big deal, right? Surely it happens to everyone. You spend a lot of time with one person, so clearly they’d just be on your mind a lot. It doesn’t mean anything, does it? No. Of course not. It was nothing.

It was certainly nothing when Dean finally saw Cas three weeks after _Fight Club_ – not that he was avoiding Cas, because he wasn’t, because it was _nothing_ – and Cas made steaks and that mushroom thing. Risotto, he called it. Whatever, it was damn good. And Cas bought wine, and they ate at Cas’ new kitchen table, and it was almost like a date.

And all Dean wanted to do all night was just reach out and grab Cas’ hand and hold it across the table, caress that soft fleshy part between Cas’ thumb and forefinger, run his fingertips across Cas’ palms so softly that it almost tickled, lace their fingers together and gaze into Cas’ eyes until he thought he would go blind from not blinking because he didn’t want to miss one second of Cas staring back at him with that look of warmth and affection that Dean was practically addicted to.

But he didn’t. He ate his damn steak and his risotto and drank his wine and went home without a word. Because it was nothing.

And it was certainly nothing later that night when Dean was lying in bed dreaming of delicate hands undressing him slowly, of warm breath ghosting over that sensitive spot on his neck, of full, chapped lips worshipping every inch of his skin. Of those same delicate hands gripping him, at first ever so softly, then more firmly and assuredly, stroking his length, caressing his balls, slipping inside him.

And finally it was nothing when Dean awoke the next morning hard as concrete from a dream that never quite completed, slipped his hand inside his boxers and grabbed his cock, the name “Cas” on his lips as he came hard and fast.

Nope, it was nothing. Nothing at all.

 

* * *

 

Okay, maybe it was something.

But what exactly was it? Dean didn’t really know. He had absolutely no idea what it was.

What he _did_ know was that he now couldn’t get Cas out of his head. All day long, every day, he couldn’t stop thinking about the guy, or wondering what Cas was up to, or noticing things that he couldn’t wait to tell Cas because he knew Cas would find them funny.

But it wasn’t like Dean wanted to, say, grab Cas while they were watching TV, kiss him and grind up against him until Cas was a writhing, panting, wreck, or anything like that; Dean mostly just wanted to wrap his arms around Cas and nuzzle into his neck, watch stupid movies and make popcorn and hang Cas’ pictures in his house and try new recipes and argue about their favorite books. Well, he wanted to do that first thing too, he was pretty sure, but he also wanted all that other stuff.

So what was he supposed to do with that knowledge? Because now Dean had no idea what to do or how to act around Cas anymore. He’d tried avoiding Cas, but that was before he realized it wasn’t nothing. Then that stupid night, with that stupid steak and that stupid mushroom stuff and that stupid wine and that stupid sex dream. Now he couldn’t go back to avoiding Cas again, or Cas would know something was up, right?

So maybe he should invite Cas over again, try to do some of the stuff they did before, you know, try to get back to normal. Hang out, watch some TV, get some takeout. Just go back to being friends and pretend none of this feelings crap ever happened.

Or hey, he and Cas always worked well together when they were finishing Cas’ den; maybe he could get Cas to work on some project with him. You know, he hadn’t changed the master bedroom at all since the ex moved out, so maybe it was time to redecorate. New coat of paint, new furniture, hell he could even build a new bed. Okay, decision made.

One hour later Dean had his entire bedroom set posted on Craigslist and was on his way to Home Depot to look at paint swatches.

One week later Dean’s bedroom consisted of nothing more than his old mattress and box spring on the floor.

One week and five minutes later, Dean was on the verge of calling Cas to let him know it was time to get started with the painting project – like, the phone was in his hand and he was scrolling though his contacts – until he looked at the paint cans stacked up in the corner of his room, each one with a little smear on the lid of the paint color inside.

The color blue.

The color of the ocean, where Mary and John took their boys on vacation right after Mary was diagnosed with cancer, where Dean and Sam stayed outside and built sand castles until they were both blistered with sunburn, where John grilled fish while Mary split a beer with her boys and told them never to tell anyone, where Dean saw a girl sunbathing topless and got his first boner.

The color of the sky the day Ben was born, when Dean first knew what unconditional love felt like, when he looked at Lisa and knew he didn’t want to live another day without her, when he finally realized that maybe, just maybe, there could be one thing in his life that he wouldn’t fuck up.

It was the color of happiness and sunshine and hope and warm memories.

It was the color of Cas’ eyes.

No, no, no. No way. This was not happening.

Dean returned his phone back to his pocket and painted the room himself. No way could he look Cas in his big blue eyes while Cas helped him paint his bedroom _that same fucking color_.

And yeah, he still painted his room blue. So what? It _was_ a nice color.

He waited three days after that to call Cas and invite him over. He couldn’t keep avoiding the guy forever; sooner or later he was gonna have to rip the band-aid off. He knew it was probably just a crush or something, like maybe he was just lonely since the ex was getting remarried and all, and Cas just happened to be there. At any rate, Cas was his friend, and Dean was just gonna have to get over it.

Cas came over for dinner that Friday. Dean made spaghetti, since Cas was training and probably need to carb load or something. Plus, Dean made _damn_ good spaghetti sauce.

Not that he was trying to impress Cas with his signature dish or anything. It was just a fortunate coincidence.

Cas arrived wearing jeans, a black button down, about a week’s worth of scruff, and fucking _glasses_. Apparently the new, single Cas no longer shaved during spring break. And his contacts were bothering him, so he decided to sport the hot librarian look.

And suddenly Dean’s resolve to go back to being just friends with Cas and pretend that this feelings crap never happened went right out the window. Because one look at Cas, with his hair all tousled like he’d just been fucked on the floor, and Dean wanted to do exactly that.

And those glasses? Nope, Dean did _not_ also suddenly have a hot librarian fantasy.

A fantasy which did _not_ get a little more detailed when Cas moaned around his first bite of spaghetti.

By the time dinner was over and Dean found himself washing dishes while Cas dried them, Cas bumping Dean’s hip with his own every so often, Dean was just about convinced that Cas felt something too. Dean had never known cleaning the kitchen after dinner to be so fucking hot, but Cas just couldn’t stop looking at Dean out of the corner of his eye and smiling, and he smelled so fucking great that Dean could barely see straight.

That was it. Dean didn’t think he could take it anymore. His fingers itched to grab Cas, just pull him close until their bodies were flush, until their mouths were touching, until they were breathing in each other’s warm breath. He wanted to run his tongue along those plush pink lips until Cas jerked him forward and claimed him, all teeth clashing and lips bruising and hands everywhere, until both of them were a panting, writhing mess.

Cas was smiling at him, their eyes locked, unblinking. If ever there was a sign that something should happen, this was it.

“Dean?” Cas finally spoke up. He seemed nervous.

“Yeah, Cas?” Dean was almost breathless.

“I have something to tell you.” Cas looked down at the floor, suddenly shy.

“What is it, Cas?” Dean inched closer. His heart was beating so hard, he was sure Cas could hear it. This was it. They were about to cross that line from friends to more than friends.

“Dean, I’ve met someone.”

 

* * *

 

Castiel had never experienced anything like it, having someone show such unabashed interest in him. Okay, maybe he had, sort of; Balthazar _had_ been the one to pursue Cas at first, to be honest. But Cas was young and naïve then, and had no idea what he was doing.

Now he was older and wiser. And he still had no idea what he was doing.

After that first training run, where Lucifer revealed his unexpected interest in Cas – and it _was_ completely unexpected, because why would someone as smart, successful, and just plain smolderingly, fuckably sexy as Lucifer be interested in Castiel? – Cas spent the next few days completely on edge, not knowing what to do next. Watching _Fight Club_ with Dean later that week sure helped take his mind off things. Brad Pitt shirtless was always a welcome distraction, after all.

But would it be a good idea to pursue something with his marathon trainer? It was only February, and the race wasn’t until the end of April. He couldn’t risk screwing up his training. No way, he decided. If Lucifer said anything the next time, and who were we kidding, he probably wouldn’t, then Cas would just have to tell him straight out. Training came first.

The following Saturday, Lucifer made good on his earlier promise to flirt with Castiel the whole time. Cas was so pleasantly dizzy by the end that it took every ounce of self control he could muster to drive home, his hands shook so badly. Then his knees shook as he stroked himself to one powerful orgasm in the shower, thoughts of the blue-eyed, devilishly charming store owner pushing everything else out of his mind.

The Saturday after that, Cas almost didn’t go to the training run. There was no way he’d be able to look Lucifer in the eye after he’d jacked off thinking about the guy, well, um, pretty much every morning that week. In the end, though, the desire to finish the marathon won out. Cas decided that for one day he could act like the adult he was supposed to be and talk to a cute guy without making a fool of himself.

He failed.

At the “acting like a grown-up and not making a fool of himself” part, that is. At the end of their run Lucifer asked Castiel out on a real, proper date. Cas choked on the Gatorade he was drinking and spit it all over Lucifer’s shirt before he politely declined and decided he was never going back there ever again.

The next Saturday, he went anyway. Lucifer wasn’t there. Cas tried in vain not to be disappointed.

It was stupid, really. He was being stupid. There was this really hot guy, and he was interested in Cas. And not just hot, he was smart, interesting, fun to talk to. Cas really enjoyed the discussions they had while they were running – everything from favorite movies, foods, music, restaurants, and vacation spots to what they wanted to be when they grew up (Cas wanted to be an artist, before he discovered he possessed absolutely no drawing ability whatsoever; Lucifer wanted to be a dog, a fact which still had Cas laughing).

It was nice, having someone he could talk to about anything and everything. Balthazar and he used to have long talks like that in the beginning; he kind of missed it. The only other people in his life he could talk to that easily were Gabe and Dean.

Dean. That was the other thing. Cas really liked Dean, enjoyed his company; Dean was smart, fun, talented, fun to hang out with, and also easy to talk to. And Dean was, Cas had to admit, pretty damn sexy. Dean was sexy without even trying, too; it was just something inherent in him that he didn’t try to flaunt, or seem to be aware even existed. He was caring, and passionate, and loyal. Being with Dean just felt so easy, and natural, almost like being home. Dean was the kind of guy Cas could see himself spending the rest of his life with.

Except that Dean was straight. He was not a romantic possibility in any way, shape, or form, and never would be.

So why did it feel like Cas was cheating on him by being interested in Lucifer?

It was stupid. He was being stupid. Lucifer was a great guy that Cas would be lucky to be with. Plus Cas’ disappointment at not seeing the guy at the training run was a pretty clear sign that he really wanted something to happen.

It was decided, then. Next week, if Lucifer was there, and if he asked Cas out, Cas would say “yes.” A decision finally made, Cas spent the next few days in relative calm waiting for the next Saturday to arrive. Well, it was also his spring break and Cas had absolutely nothing on his agenda but a stack of books to read, so that may have contributed to his level of relative calm.

The phone rang on Wednesday. Cas didn’t recognize the number, but picked up anyway.

It was Lucifer, calling from New York. He was there for a couple of weeks for his brother’s wedding, and he called Cas in the middle of it. Just to talk. Just because he wanted someone to save him from the hell that was, apparently, seeing his family 24/7, and he thought of Cas.

They talked for four hours. Cas was vaguely aware that he was grinning the whole time like a high school girl with a crush, but he didn’t care. He still wasn’t sure by the end of it whether dating Lucifer would be a good idea, but he was sure as hell becoming more and more convinced.

 

* * *

 

Two days later Lucifer called again.

It was late Friday afternoon, bordering on Friday evening, and Cas was due at Dean’s within the hour. Dean was making spaghetti for dinner. Cas had never tasted Dean’s home cooking, and he was looking forward to it.

He recognized the number as soon as it popped up his caller ID and couldn’t help the smile that seeing those digits brought to his face. “Lucifer, hello. This is a nice surprise.”

“Hey, Cas. Home on a Friday night all alone, then?”

“Just for a little while longer. I’m having dinner at my friend Dean’s house later.”

“Cheating on me already, before we’ve even had a proper date? Cas, you devil.”

“What can I say? I like to keep my options open,” he teased.

“Well, maybe I can change your mind then. I was getting ready for the rehearsal dinner when something made me think of you, so I thought I’d give you a call.”

“Oh yeah?” Cas wondered. “What made you think of me?”

“I just got out of the shower.” Lucifer’s voice dropped almost an octave as he answered. “I was laying on my bed, stroking myself, pretending the hand on my cock was yours. Wanted to hear your voice.”

“Jesus, Lucifer,” Cas whimpered, scrubbing his hand over his face, the image of Lucifer naked and touching himself going straight to Cas’ dick. “I can’t do this. I have to leave for Dean’s soon.”

“Come on, Cas. Tell me you haven’t thought about me,” Lucifer purred. “Tell me you’re not thinking about me right now, my hands on you, my mouth on your cock.”

“Lucifer, I can’t start this now,” Cas whispered. “Please.”

“But you’ve thought about it, right? You’ve thought about me? Like this?”

Cas could hear Lucifer’s breath hitch over the phone as he stroked himself, waiting for Cas to answer. The last of Cas’ resolve to resist began to crumble. “Yes,” he breathed.

“God, Cas,” Lucifer breathed. “You have the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard. You have no idea. I’ve wanted you from the moment I met you. Talk to me, Cas.”

“Tell you what?” Cas sat down on the sofa, He adjusted the crotch of his suddenly too-tight jeans.

“Anything. What are you wearing?”

“Jeans. Black button down shirt. My glasses.” Cas gulped as he unzipped his jeans, not quite believing he was actually about to do this. “But the jeans are now coming off.”

“Throw them on the floor. Unbutton your shirt,” Lucifer commanded. “I want to see you. Fuck, that’s hot.”

Cas lost the jeans, then the shirt. “What are you gonna do to me?”

“First I’m gonna kiss your neck, just above your collarbone,” Lucifer murmured. “Then I’m gonna take your take your nipples in my mouth, one at a time, teasing, sucking, biting them until you’re writhing below me, begging me for more. Can you feel it, Cas? Can you feel my mouth on you?”

Cas ghosted his fingers down his neck, along his collarbone, across his nipples, slipping his hand down into his boxers. “Yes,” he breathed. “God, yes.”

“Then I’m gonna kiss my way down your body, so softly it almost tickles. But what I really want to do is put my mouth on your cock. I want to see how good you taste.”

Cas wrapped his hand around his erection and started a slow, steady rhythm. “Fuck, Lucifer, your mouth. Want your mouth on me. But first I want to kiss you. Wanted to kiss you from the first day we met. Want to suck on your fingers, one by one.”

“Jesus, Cas,” Lucifer moaned. “Suck on my fingers. Get ‘em nice and wet while I take the head of your cock in my mouth. Then I’m gonna suck you all the way down while I slide my wet fingers in your ass.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Cas moaned, squeezing the base of his cock. That was almost embarrassingly quick. “Fuck, Lucifer, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Not yet, Cas. I got plans for you. I want to touch and taste every inch of you, find every one of your sensitive spots, tease you until you’re begging me.”

Cas had done this with Balthazar a few times before, and he’d always enjoyed it, but that seemed different. He and Balthazar were involved, committed, living together, whereas he and Lucifer had really only met a few times. _Screw it_ , Cas finally decided. He slipped off his boxers and tossed them onto the floor along with his shirt and jeans. He wrapped his hand around his erection again, stroking softly, lazily. “Yeah, just like that. Please. Want you.”

“What do you want, Cas? Tell me.”

“Want you to make me come.” He sped up his pace, getting closer and closer to the edge once again.

“With what, Cas? Do you want my hands on you? My mouth? My tongue inside you?” The wet sounds of Lucifer’s hand picking up speed came through the phone; it was one of the hottest things Cas had ever heard in his life.

“Oh, God, Lucifer,” Cas moaned. “Your tongue, just like that. Lick me open. Want to ride you. Want to sink down on your cock, feel every inch of it as I pin your arms down and ride you.”

“Fuck! Cas!” Lucifer came with a shout. Cas immediately followed, picturing his blue-eyed devil coming apart beneath him.

“That,” Lucifer panted, catching his breath, “was amazing. You are amazing.”

“Ditto,” Cas replied, unable to keep the grin off his face. “I can’t believe I just did that. It’s been a while.”

“Well, you definitely haven’t lost your skills,” Lucifer commented. “So, what do you say, Cas? _Now_ will you go out with me?”

Okay, _that_ was unexpected. Cas figured Lucifer had just called him for phone sex, not for an actual date. He didn’t know what to say; his brain wasn’t exactly functioning at full capacity in his post-orgasm haze.

“Look, Cas, I know you’ve just been through some terrible breakup, and you’re a little gun-shy right now,” Lucifer offered. “But I like you, and I really think there could be something here. So I’m willing to take it as slowly as you want, this evening’s activities aside.”

“Slow is good,” Cas acknowledged hesitantly.

“I’ll be back in town Tuesday. Have dinner with me? _Just_ dinner,” Lucifer promised. “Cross my heart.”

Dinner with Lucifer sounded good. And he said slow, right? If Lucifer was willing to take things slowly, then this might not be so bad after all. Maybe he would be worth taking a chance on. Cas couldn’t believe it; he was lying naked on his sofa, come drying on his belly, and he was grinning like an idiot because he had a date. So maybe it wasn’t the most conventional way to be asked out, but who cares?

“Okay,” Cas agreed. “I’ll have dinner with you.”


	15. Chapter 15

The morning of Lisa’s wedding Dean’s alarm went off at 8 am.

No, wait. That relentless, annoying buzzing noise wasn’t the alarm. It was his phone. Who the hell changed his ringtone to that irritating noise? _Jesus._ Dean made a mental note to kill Sam as he picked his phone up off the nightstand. The caller ID read “Cas.”

“Hello?” Dean managed to croak out.

“Hello, Dean. Did I wake you?”

_What the fuck?_ “Yes, Jesus, Cas, you woke me. You mind telling me why?” It was way too early for anything approaching civility.

“Because I’m picking you up in an hour. I’m not letting you spend today alone in your shop with a bottle of whiskey.”

“That’s not what I was gonna do,” Dean huffed. Besides, it wasn’t whiskey. He’d bought a bottle of tequila for the occasion. “You don’t have to babysit me. I’m fine.”

“This isn’t babysitting. I just don’t like the idea of you being alone,” Cas insisted. “I’ll be there in an hour. You’ll be ready?”

“Yeah, sure, Cas. I’ll be ready. See you then.” Dean hung up, threw the phone back on his nightstand, rolled over and went back to sleep.

Cas called again at 8:30. Apparently he knew Dean too well.

By the time Cas knocked on the door at 9:00 Dean was awake, more or less, freshly showered, and extremely confused as to why Cas had to start distracting him from thinking about the wedding at such an ungodly hour. Dean really, _really_ hoped that whatever was on the agenda for the day, it didn’t involve Cas gushing over his new boyfriend like the last time they’d gotten together. Dean didn’t know if he could handle a full day’s worth of Cas going on and on about some “smart, wonderful, just amazing” guy.

He was happy that his friend was happy (well, theoretically), but he just didn’t want to think about Cas with some other guy, and he certainly didn’t want to have to hear about it over and over and over again. Cas wasn’t interested in Dean, end of story. All Dean wanted now was to forget the whole thing and go back to normal.

“I got your favorite,” Cas greeted, handing Dean a large white paper coffee cup. He was a little too chipper for Dean’s liking, considering the early hour and Dean’s interrupted sleep. “Ready to go?”

“You gonna tell me what we’re doing today? And why we’re doing it so early?” Dean grumbled, taking a sip of his extra-hot beverage. Dammit, it was perfect. Screw Cas and his knowing how Dean took his coffee.

“Nope,” Cas smiled. “You want to drive?”

Dean took exactly .3 seconds to think about that. “You bet your ass I’m driving.” Dean hated being in the dark about whatever Cas was gonna drag him to, but being behind the wheel of his baby would definitely balance the scale a little. “And I pick the music.”

“As you wish,” Cas replied with a wink.

Dean couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped his lips as they piled into the car. “Shut up, asshole.”

“So where to, navigator?” Dean asked as he pulled out of the driveway, digging through the glove box until he found the tape he was looking for. He hadn’t listened to this particular album in a while, and it seemed like a good occasion for it. Besides, it was time to introduce Cas to another classic; his musical education was sadly lacking in some areas.

Cas pulled a piece of paper from his shirt pocket and studied it for a moment. “Take I-70 East toward Kansas City.”

Dean squinted to focus on the directions in Cas’ hands. “Wait, Cas, is that… did you MapQuest this?”

Cas refolded the paper, replacing it in his pocket, and shrugged. “I’ve never been there before. I needed directions.”

“Aww, Cas, that’s cute. Did you look that up on your Commodore 64, too?” Dean blanched as he heard the words come out of his mouth, realizing that he basically just called Cas "cute" out loud.

_Just stop that shit right now,_ Dean told himself. _You are not going to start this today._

“Hey, you’re lucky I just changed the ribbon on my dot matrix printer,” Cas smirked. “Otherwise I’d have a map unfolded across the seat with a highlighter.”

“Yeah, I guess I am lucky,” Dean nodded as he turned onto the interstate. He’d missed this; the easy camaraderie he and Cas shared had been conspicuously absent since Cas started spending all his time with that Lucifer guy. Maybe the day would turn out to not suck after all, he decided. He popped the cassette in the player, rolled down the window and turned up the volume on the stereo, reveling in the open road.

As the opening guitar riff blasted through the speakers, Cas’ eyes widened in surprise. “Oh my God! Is this…?”

A gruff voice began singing, _“The window’s dirty / The mattress stinks / This ain’t no place to be a man.”_

Cas started laughing. “Holy shit! I haven’t heard this in ages!”

Now Dean was the one in shock. “How in the hell have you even _heard_ of Spinal Tap?”

“Gabe used to love this movie,” Cas explained. “We’d have Spinal Tap parties at his place in college. You’d have to take a drink whenever Marty asked a question, Nigel stuck his tongue out, someone famous had a cameo, stuff like that. I’m sure there were others but we were usually wasted by the time Bobbi Flekman showed up, and then it didn’t really matter anymore.”

Dean’s laughed at the mental image of a young Cas doing shots. “Dude. That’s like ten minutes into the movie.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. It was college. The point was to get drunk as quickly as possible. Not to watch the movie quietly with our hands folded in our laps.”

“Good point,” Dean smiled. But there was something else in Cas’ story that Dean hadn’t previously heard Cas mention. “Hey, I didn’t know you and Gabe went to college together.”

“Yeah, he was a senior when I started. Of course, his senior year lasted 5 semesters, so we were there together for quite a while,” Cas explained. “He and I were always pretty good friends, you know, but we became much closer at KU. Something about getting hammered together and sending out a search party at 4 am for your brother’s roommate, who wandered off drunk in his tighty-whities, kinda cements a friendship.”

“Holy shit,” Dean laughed. “Did you find him?”

“Yeah, about an hour later, asleep on a bench in front of the field house.”

Dean was impressed. He’d had visions of Cas as a college student spending every free minute alone in his dorm studying or doing extra homework. It was nice to know that Cas had lived a little. And been introduced to a classic movie as well.

They continued along I-70 singing along and quoting their favorite lines from the movie, which meant they had pretty much recited most of the dialogue by the time they reached Kansas City. Dean didn’t know what he enjoyed more: hearing Cas growl out David St. Hubbins’ vocals with frightening precision, or watching him giggle at the ridiculous lyrics. The way Cas’ nose crinkled when he laughed at Nigel Tufnel’s narration of the Druids living “hundreds of years before the dawn of history” was probably one of the most adorable things Dean had ever seen.

Then Dean realized he was staring at Cas instead of the road, thinking about how adorable Cas was, how much he wanted to make Cas laugh like that pretty much every day.

Nope, he definitely couldn’t start this; he was just gonna make things worse. He shook the thoughts away, turning back toward the interstate.

Dean drove on as Cas navigated him through Kansas City and northward, every instruction prompting another ribbing from Dean about Cas’ printed out MapQuest directions. As Dean finally pulled off I-435 toward 48th Street he began to glance around at the signs, finally realizing where Cas was taking him for the day.

“Worlds of Fun? Really?” Dean hadn’t been to the amusement park in years. He still had the two passes Cas had given him for his birthday to take Ben, but the park hadn’t been open for the summer season yet. Until now, he guessed.

Cas smiled back at Dean, a genuine smile full of warmth and wonder. “Opening day is today.”

“Wow, Cas that’s… thanks,” he managed, pulling into the parking lot which was quickly filling. Fuck, this was nice of Cas. And a far better way to spend his day than what he’d originally planned.

They exited the car and made their way through the gates, Cas using tickets he’d purchased online. Cas handed Dean a Fast Lane wristband that allowed them to bypass the long lines for the rides. “So, Dean,” Cas inquired, consulting the park map he’d been given. “Where should we go first?”

Dean peered over Cas’ shoulder at the map. “I figure, most people will want to start out here, close to the entrance, and make their way around. What do you say we head straight for the back, hit some of these here, like the Mamba and the Timber Wolf, then make out way back around to the front?”

Cas nodded, meticulously folding the map up and placing it in his pocket. Dean smiled, noticing that it was the same pocket where Cas had stashed the driving directions earlier. This place was all about adrenaline and excitement and letting go with wild abandon, and Cas was so methodical about the whole thing, like he was going to be tested on it later. Dean fought the sudden wave of affection that washed over him, swallowing the urge to grab Cas’ hand and intertwine their fingers as they made their way toward the rear of the park.

_Stop it, dumbass,_ Dean told himself. _He’s not interested. Get over it._

As they approached the Mamba, the first ride on their agenda, Dean noticed an increasing look of panic taking over Cas’ face. “Cas, you okay?”

“This may be the wrong time to tell you this, Dean, but I’ve never been on a roller coaster.”

“Are you serious?” Dean spluttered. “We’ve lived an hour from here our whole lives, and you’ve never done this before?”

“What can I say?” Cas shrugged, trying his best to stay calm while his gaze flickered up hesitantly toward the roller coaster that was one of the tallest and fastest in the world. “I’m not really a fan of heights. Or of plunging from said heights toward the ground at break-neck speeds.”

Cas was visibly shaking now, and they hadn’t even gotten in line yet. Dean laid his hands on Cas’ shoulders, blocking Cas’ view of the monster coaster before them. “Look, Cas, we don’t have to do this. There’s plenty of other stuff to do here. How about the Fury of the Nile?” he asked, pointing toward Cas’ rear. “River rafting, that sounds good, right?”

“No,” Cas declared, his eyes still a little uncertain. He took a deep breath, and looked at Dean, his mind apparently made up. “I want to do this.”

“You sure?” Dean looked at Cas expectantly. Cas looked up at the coaster again and nodded, not looking too sure about his decision but agreeing to go anyway.

“Okay,” Dean smiled. “Let’s go.

They made their way to the front of the line and grabbed their seats, Dean leading them to a car in the middle. Dean normally would have gone straight up to the front of the coaster, but he didn’t want to freak Cas out too much on his first time out. As Cas sat down beside him and locked himself in, Dean could tell his friend was scared shitless.

“Cas,” he leaned over and whispered, laying his hand on Cas’ knee, “it’s gonna be okay. I’m here. I got you.”

Cas reached down and grabbed Dean’s hand, intertwining their fingers. His grip was tight, his knuckles turning white. Dean squeezed back, a secret thrill pulsing through his veins as he offered Cas his strength.

The cars pulled out of the station and made their initial ascent. Dean glanced over and noticed Cas’ eyes were squeezed shut. “Cas, man, you gotta open your eyes.”

Cas shook his head vigorously. “I can’t. I can’t do this.”

“You can, Cas. Trust me. It’s going to feel a hell of a lot worse if you keep your eyes closed and you can’t see what’s coming,” Dean pleaded. “You can do this, Cas. I got you.”

Cas finally opened his eyes as the cars continued to climb, his panic giving way to sheer terror as they crested the hill, his grip on Dean’s hand tightening further. As the cars began their drop Cas’ terror turned to delight and wonder, his death grip on Dean’s hand loosening as they climbed and fell again and again.

Hill after hill after hill, Cas never let go of Dean’s hand. Dean couldn’t decide if it was the best three minutes of his life or the worst, since it was only a tease of something he would never have again. He decided to swallow the melancholy that threatened to cloud his enjoyment and savor the moment anyway, relishing in the rush of Cas’ hand in his.

Far too soon they pulled into the loading station. The look of giddy jubilation on Cas’ face was almost too much as they climbed out of the car and followed the path toward the next ride.

“So, what do you think? Like to try another one?” Dean asked, unable to stop smiling as he watched the play of emotions cross Cas’ face, Cas attempting to process what had just happened.

“That was…” Cas looked stunned as he searched for the right word with so many things going through his mind at once. “That was exhilarating! I can’t believe I waited 32 years to try that.”

“So, Timber Wolf next?” Dean started down the path and glanced around, looking for the easiest way to get to the next ride.

“Dean, wait,” Cas called out, grabbing Dean’s hand and pulling him back. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and pulled him in for a tight hug, his cheek pressed against Dean’s. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Dean really wished Cas would stop touching him, for his own sanity if nothing else.

He wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist and hugged back anyway, though, because it would’ve been weird if he’d just stood there, his arms at his sides. Was it possible to wish someone would stop touching you while simultaneously never wanting to let go?

Cas felt so good in Dean’s arms, his slender frame now a little more muscular and tantalizing in all the right places since he’d been exercising more. Dean could feel the hard outline of Cas’ pecs pressing against his own and he wondered if Cas had started lifting weights or doing pushups as well as all that running.

And now he had a mental picture of Cas shirtless doing pushups.

Dean was trying to get over it, he really was, but Cas was making it _very fucking hard_ to do. Okay, maybe wrong choice of words. Then again, as he felt Cas’ warm breath teasing his neck, he realized maybe it was _exactly_ the right choice of words and he’d better let go, right fucking now, or this would get really awkward.

“Hey, you don’t have to thank me,” Dean dismissed with a little laugh as he pulled away. “Coming here was your idea and all. Plus you paid. Hell, I should be thanking you.”

Cas reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved the park map. “So how many of these things do they have here, anyway?” he wondered.

“I don’t know, six or seven? Why, you want to try ‘em all?”

Cas shrugged. “Maybe. Why not? We have time.”

“I can’t believe it. Castiel Milton: Adrenaline Junkie. Who would’ve thought?” Dean smirked.

Cas replaced the map in his pocket as they headed down the path toward the next ride. “What can I say? I guess I needed a little more excitement in my life.”

Dean stopped for a second. Cas had some “amazing” new guy that he had been seeing for only a few weeks, and he needed more excitement in his life? A sliver of hope wedged its way into the pall shrouding Dean’s mood, and Dean decided to take that sliver and run with it. “That’s me. Mr. Excitement,” he quipped, quirking an eyebrow and flashing the flirtiest grin he could manage. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll take you skydiving for your birthday.”

Cas blanched. “Let’s take one thing at a time, shall we?”

“Whatever you want, Cas,” Dean nodded, trying to ignore the way his heart sped up at the word “we.”

Cas made it through two more coasters and a few other thrill rides before the pair took a break and stopped for lunch. They decided to take it easy on the adrenaline for a while afterward, riding the railroad, the carrousel, and the Skyliner Ferris wheel, and it felt so much like a date that Dean had to keep reminding himself not to put his arm around Cas as they sat side by side, shoulders, hips, and thighs pressed together in the narrow seats.

They made their way through most of the rest of the thrill rides, Cas finally drawing the line at the water rides and the Spinning Dragons coaster. He didn’t want to spend the rest of the day in wet denim, first of all, and second of all, while the up and down and upside down twirls of a regular coaster were one thing, doing all of that plus rotating in a spinning car was entirely another. Both of them had made it through the day without any migraines or vomit, so why chance it?

All reasonable points, Dean conceded.

“So, you wanna grab some dinner somewhere before we head back?” Dean inquired, noticing both the time and his increasingly empty stomach as they headed toward the car. “There’s a great barbecue place not far from here, I think.”

“Actually, I had something else in mind for dinner, if that’s okay with you,” Cas hinted, pulling a slip of paper from his pocket as Dean unlocked his door.

“Something that involves more MapQuest?” Dean teased, climbing into the car. “Hey, then after dinner maybe we can play some games on my ColecoVision. Or watch a movie on my Betamax.”

“Says the king of mullet rock,” Cas quipped, filching through the glove box. “Do you even have anything in here that came out _after_ 1990?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Dean insisted. “Metallica’s black album.”

Cas located the cassette in question and flipped the case over to read the date on the back. “Oh, look. 1991. I stand corrected; clearly you are the king of all things current.”

“Hey, this is a classic. And look at that cover,” Dean added, snatching the cassette from Cas and holding it up. “It's like, how much more black could this be? And the answer is none. None more black.”

Cas smiled at Dean’s Spinal Tap reference. “True. And you know what they say, once you go black…”

“Oh my God, Cas,” Dean spluttered, not knowing whether to laugh or be horrified. He wasn’t used to hearing sexual innuendos come out of Cas’ mouth; it made him wonder how much more dirty talk Cas was capable of.

And if he’d ever get a chance to hear any of it.

And, yeah, he’d probably better quit this whole line of thinking _right fucking now_. He popped the Metallica tape in and turned up the volume, instantly calming at the opening riff of “Enter Sandman.”

“So, that’s it?” Cas wondered.

“What’s it?”

“That’s all it takes to shut you up? One dick joke leaves Dean Winchester speechless?” Cas smirked.

“Shut up, asshole,” Dean muttered, hoping like hell he wasn’t blushing. “Which way am I going, anyway?”

Cas unfolded his directions and flicked his eyes towards Dean, clearly expecting another MapQuest comment, but none came. “I-435 South.”

“Yes sir, navigator,” Dean saluted, pulling out of the parking lot.

Thirty minutes later Kauffman Stadium came into view. “Are you serious?” Dean marveled. “A Royals game? You’re taking me to a fucking Royals game? Man, I haven’t been to one of these in years.”

“I remember you saying your dad had taken you and Sam when you were younger, so I thought you might enjoy it.” Cas smiled at Dean. “I’ve never been to one of these, so you’ll have to explain it to me as we go.”

“Wait, you’ve never been to one of these either?” Dean was a little taken aback; Cas had planned an entire day of things he had never done before just because he knew they were things that would make Dean happy? And one of those things took Cas so far out of his comfort zone that he was visibly shaking in terror, but he did it anyway? That little sliver of hope Dean felt earlier got a little bigger with the realization that Cas was willing to try something new with Dean by his side.

_Dean_ , not that other guy. Lucifer. Whatever.

“My family wasn’t exactly the sports-loving type,” Cas shrugged. “And Balthazar was never interested in going. I just never had the opportunity, really.”

“Well, I can show you all the things you’ve been missing out on. You are so lucky you have me now,” Dean winked at Cas as he parked the car.

Cas held Dean’s gaze for a moment, but then looked down at his lap, a shy smile crossing his face. Was Cas blushing? “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am,” he replied.

They made their way through the parking lot toward the stadium. Cas handed the tickets to the usher, careful not to let Dean see them. Yeah, it was a little weird, but Dean decided not to mention it. Cas had paid, so who was he to question it? As they got to their seats, however, Dean realized why Cas was loath to let him see the tickets. These were pretty expensive seats; Cas probably didn’t want Dean to catch a glimpse of the price printed on the front and make a big deal out of it.

Dean then started mentally adding up everything Cas had spent on this outing – two passes for the park, plus the Fast Lane wristbands, and now box seats to a Royals game? He could be mistaken, but he was pretty sure it came close to $200.

Cas spent $200 on him. Just to make sure that this day was a good one for him and not a drunken blur of self-loathing.

Dean was a little taken aback; that really didn’t sound like something a best friend would do. Well, maybe a rich best friend would, but not one with a high school history teacher’s salary.

That sliver of hope grew even more.

Dean knew then, sitting there in Kauffman stadium in his box seats watching the first pitch get thrown, Dean knew that he had to do something to make this up to Cas. He had no idea what it would be, what he could possibly do to come close to what Cas did for him, but he had to think of something. Something big, something significant, something meaningful.

He figured buying the two of them beer and hot dogs for dinner would be a start.

The game passed in a blur; Dean wasn’t really sure who was winning, or even who was playing. All that mattered was the look of sheer delight on Cas’ face the entire evening, the way his nose crinkled when he smiled, the way his eyes lit up as he followed each play, the way he would jump out of his seat to try and catch every foul ball that came their way. It was the best baseball game Dean had ever been to.

Cas slept on the drive home, and Dean wished to God that Cas would just lean over and lay his head on Dean’s shoulder. Instead, Dean contented himself with watching Cas sleep, all peaceful and serene and angelic. As he pulled the car into his driveway he wondered for a moment what it would be like to get to see that sight every night and wake up to it every morning.

So help him, Dean Winchester wanted to be with Castiel Milton. The thought should have scared him; it should have made him want to run as far away from Cas as he could. Not because Cas was a man, but because he was a good man. Cas was kind and caring and loyal and passionate, and a hundred other things that Dean didn’t deserve. But Dean wanted to try, so help him he wanted to try his best to be someone that was worthy of Castiel Milton.

Except that Castiel Milton was taken. Dean might as well just forget it. It was just some stupid crush anyway.

He sighed and turned off the car, wondering if he should lean over and wake Cas. The sudden lack of engine noise must’ve done the trick, though, because Cas sat up with a jolt, banging his head against the passenger window.

“Easy there, tiger,” Dean murmured.

Cas blinked away the last vestiges of sleep and rubbed his palms against his eyes. “Are we home already?”

If only Cas knew how much Dean wanted the answer to that question to be “yes.”

“We’re at my house, Cas. Your car is here. Remember?” Dean wondered if Cas would be able to drive home; he seemed pretty out of it. “You know, it’s pretty late; maybe you should stay here. I can pull out some blankets, make up the sofa.” _And I can cook you breakfast in the morning while you make coffee, and you can grade papers and do lesson plans in the afternoon while I finish off that table I’ve been working on, and later we can order Chinese and curl up on the sofa and watch Twilight Zone reruns in our pajamas._

Cas looked at the house, his brow furrowed in thought. “No,” he finally decided. “I’ll be okay to drive. Thanks, though.”

Dean looked back at Cas, trying to hide his disappointment. “You sure? It’s no trouble.” _Please stay._

Cas hesitated. He was thinking about it; Dean was certain. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll be okay.”

They exited the car, lingering awkwardly in the driveway. _Fuck it_ , Dean decided, and pulled Cas in for a hug. “Thank you for today,” he whispered in Cas’ ear. “I needed this. You have no idea.”

Cas wrapped his arms around Dean. “Yeah, well, you deserve it,” he whispered back, releasing Dean with a yawn. “I’d better get home.”

“Yeah, I guess I should get to bed,” Dean shrugged, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s been a long day. And I didn’t get a nice long nap on the drive home like some people.”

“Oh, well, I really hope you make it into bed okay,” Cas teased. “You know, maybe you should play some music, roll down the windows. I don’t want you falling asleep on the way there.”

“Shut up, asshole,” Dean smiled.

“I’ll see you later,” Cas waved as he climbed into his car.

Dean waved goodbye, headed into the house, and crawled straight into bed, too tired to do much of anything else.

It wasn’t until the next night, as he was having dinner at Sam and Sarah’s, relaying his day’s events to Sam over a couple of beers while Sam manned the grill, that he realized he hadn’t thought about his ex or her wedding at all that day.

It wasn’t until three days later, as he was installing a set of cabinets for a client, that he realized Cas hadn’t mentioned his new boyfriend that day. Not one single time.

Dean’s sliver of hope was definitely no longer a sliver. It was now… fuck, what was larger than a sliver? It didn’t matter.

What mattered was that when Dean was with Cas, everything else went away. At least, it did for Dean.

And now he was starting to believe that it did for Cas too.


	16. Chapter 16

The following morning Cas woke slowly. His mind was reluctant to join the land of the living, still wanting to hold onto the last whispers of dreamland. Cas couldn’t immediately recall what it was that he had dreamt of, but it was nice. It gave him a feeling of coziness that made him smile as he lazily rolled over, reaching out across the bed. The space next to him was cold and empty, and he frowned. Why was the other half of the bed empty? Where was…

He sat up with a jolt, realizing suddenly what he had just done.

He had been reaching for Dean.

Dean, his best friend.

Dean, with his emerald green eyes that crinkled around the edges and sparkled in the spring sunlight like the brightest jewel that Cas had ever seen, whose face had lit up the entire previous day, full of childlike wonder and glee, like it was Christmas.

Dean, who should look that content and carefree every day, because he deserved it every day.

Dean, who had held Cas’ hand when Cas freaked out, whose touch instantly calmed and grounded him, who radiated warmth and strength, making him want to lean over and lay his head on Dean’s shoulder and curl up into Dean’s arms every time the two sat next to each other.

Dean, who wasn’t gay and wasn’t possibly, in any way, shape or form, the least bit interested in Cas.

And Dean, who, most importantly, _wasn’t the man Castiel was currently dating_.

Cas slumped over on the bed, scrubbing his hands across his face. This had to stop. Dean was his friend, nothing more. Dean was a fantasy, a dream that would never come true. Men like Dean just didn’t fall in love with men like Cas; Dean had made that pretty clear back in high school. And, yeah, Dean had apologized for his cruel words and Cas had forgiven him, but that didn’t make those words any less true.

Cas dragged himself out of bed and shuffled toward the dresser to grab some clothes. He decided to forgo jeans, donning shorts and a t-shirt instead. Perhaps a run would do him some good, help clear his head.

One hour and six easy miles later, Cas knew what he had to do. It was like he had told himself earlier, Dean was a fantasy. Lucifer was real.

Okay, so maybe Cas had _slightly_ exaggerated his involvement with Lucifer when he started bragging to Dean about seeing someone. In truth, he and Lucifer had only been out a couple of times. His excuse to Lucifer was that he was afraid of getting hurt, so they were taking things slowly. The real reason, he now realized, was that he knew deep down that he definitely felt something for Dean. He had been holding back with Lucifer, and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to Lucifer, and it wasn’t fair to himself.

Well, it was time to stop all of that nonsense. It was time to jump in head first, or feet first, or whatever the hell the saying was, and be with Lucifer, fully. In every way.

_Lucifer’s a great guy,_ Cas told himself. _He’s smart, sexy as hell, and, for some unknowable reason he likes you. You’re lucky to have him_.

After a quick shower, Cas put on a pot of coffee and grabbed his phone. Perhaps Lucifer would be up to spending the day together. Maybe brunch and a movie, possibly a stroll through the park afterward; the weather was perfect outside, and Cas wanted nothing more than to share it with his boyfriend (Boyfriend? Guy he was seeing? Nah, too wordy.) and put all this other nonsense behind him. He typed out a quick text.

**You free for lunch, babe? Miss you. ;)**

It was almost an hour before he heard back.

**From: Lucifer**

**Sorry, Cas. Inventory at the store all week. Raincheck?**

Cas tried not to be disappointed that it took Lucifer an hour to respond, or that his response was so detached, almost business-like. _Lucifer’s working,_ Cas told himself. _It’s nothing personal._

Over the next few days Cas tried his best to persuade Lucifer to take a break from work and join him for dinner. After his first couple of rejections Lucifer stopped responding altogether. Cas knew that Lucifer was in the middle of a busy week, but it was frustrating as hell that he was finally ready, willing, and able to commit himself to this man, and couldn’t get even a 5-minute phone conversation in return.

On Thursday afternoon his phone chirped with an incoming message.

**From: Dean**

**Dr. Sexy tonight at my place? I can grill burgers if you like. ;)**

Of course, it was just Castiel’s luck that it wasn’t the man he wanted to hear from, but the one he was desperately trying to avoid. Any other Thursday Cas would have said yes in a heartbeat, especially with Dean’s homemade burgers thrown in. But now? Cas just really needed to see Lucifer first. He sent Dean a quick decline.

Finally late Thursday night as Cas was getting ready for bed he received the message he had been waiting all week for.

**From: Lucifer**

**Hell week is over. Dinner tomorrow? I have reservations somewhere nice and I wanna show you off.**

Cas knew he was grinning like an idiot as he typed out a hasty “I thought you’d never ask” in reply.

_See?_ He told himself. _This is exactly what you need. This is good. This is real._

His phone beeped again.

**Pick you up at 6. Can’t wait to see what your best suit looks like on my living room floor.**

Damn, Lucifer was forward. The floor in the living room wasn’t how he’d previously imagined his first time with Lucifer, but it sure as hell was how he imagined it from that moment on, as he stripped off his boxers, crawled under the covers, and stroked himself to orgasm.

 

* * *

 

“Will you please just tell me where we’re going?” Cas asked for probably the third time, desperate to know what Lucifer had in store for the evening. His mind flashed briefly to the previous weekend, to kidnapping Dean and not revealing a single detail about the day’s events. And this wasn’t even some out-of-town road trip; he and Lucifer were just driving downtown to go to dinner at some apparently fancy restaurant. How Dean ever kept his cool while driving for over an hour to some unknown location was beyond Cas.

_And stop thinking about Dean. You’ve got this gorgeous man who actually likes you sitting right here next to you. Let it go._

“For the last time, no. You’ll just have to wait,” Lucifer smiled, squeezing Cas’ fingers.

“I hate waiting,” Cas muttered under his breath in his best Inigo Montoya impression. He glanced over at his date; Lucifer didn’t react.

_Dean would’ve gotten that one._

_No! Stop thinking about Dean! You’re gonna make yourself crazy!_

_Well, more crazy._

Lucifer finally parked the car and turned off the engine. “You’re gonna love this place. I swear.”

Cas exited the car and glanced around, his heart dropping as he realized what restaurant they were directly across the street from. “Café Beautiful? You’re taking me to Café Beautiful?” This was definitely not good.

Lucifer slipped his arm around Cas’ waist. “Yes, I am. You been there before?”

Cas felt his legs becoming increasingly shaky and his heartbeat more erratic with each step as he and Lucifer crossed the street. All of the memories flooded his mind at once – coming here with Balthazar for their one-year anniversary, then again for Cas’ birthday last year, Balthazar telling Cas later that night that he was “going out of town,” Cas coming home to an empty condo, opening the envelope weeks later with Balthazar’s keys inside.

_I can’t do this. I have to get out of here. I can’t do this._

“Cas, you okay?” Lucifer’s brow furrowed in concern when he realized Cas was no longer walking, but standing in the middle of the street.

“I’m sorry,” Cas managed as he turned and headed back to the car. “I can’t, I can’t…”

“You can’t what? You don’t like this place? Is that it?”

Cas shook his head. “No. Yes. I do. I mean, I did.” Cas knew he was not making sense, but everything was jumbled in his head.

“Tell you what. Why don’t we just go inside, open a bottle of wine. You’ll feel a whole lot better once I get you drunk,” Lucifer smirked.

“Please, can we just go somewhere else?” Cas really didn’t want to have to explain himself in that moment. He just wanted to get the hell out of there.

“Cas, come on,” Lucifer insisted, his demeanor becoming increasingly impatient. “This is ridiculous. Let’s just go inside. I promise you’re gonna love it here.” Lucifer laced his fingers through Cas’ tried to pull him across the street.

Cas didn’t budge. Come on, couldn’t Lucifer tell Cas was in the middle of some crisis here? Even Cas’ douche of an ex would never have made him do something he didn’t want to do.

And Cas really did not want to eat at Café Beautiful.

He also did not want to look at Lucifer any longer. “You want to eat there so badly? Fine. Don’t let me stop you.” He untangled his hand from Lucifer’s grasp and started off down Massachusetts Street; surely there’d be a coffee shop or something nearby he could stop at while he called Gabe to come pick him up.

“Cas, wait,” Lucifer called out behind him. “Just stop, will you? Fine, we can eat somewhere else if you want.”

Lucifer finally caught up to Cas and grabbed his shoulder. “Will you please just tell me what’s going on? If something is bothering you, tell me. Don’t shut me out, Cas.”

Cas stopped, taking a deep breath. Lucifer was right. Cas was freaked out, and he was taking it out on the wrong person. “Fine, but not here, okay? Can we just get out of here and go somewhere else?”

Lucifer let out a sigh; Cas couldn’t tell if it was more in acceptance, disappointment, or irritation. After a moment Lucifer reached out and offered Cas his hand. “Fine. Whatever you want.”

Cas laced his fingers through Lucifer’s once again, hoping that he could salvage what was left of the night.

Thirty minutes later they arrived at Castiel’s choice for dinner. He had never been there, but he had heard Dean talk about it so much that he was curious. And as much as he didn’t want to think about Dean while he was on a date with another man, he was still a little uneasy after the earlier events and needed something familiar.

“What is this place, anyway?” Lucifer asked, a look of mild disgust on his face as he and Cas crossed to parking lot toward the door.

“The Roadhouse. You’ll love it. It’s a bar, but they have the best burgers in town according to Dean.”

Lucifer furrowed his eyebrows questioningly as he opened the door for Cas. “So, your friend Dean recommended this place, huh?”

“Yes. Dean used to work here years ago. He also helped rebuild it when it caught fire and burned to the ground. It’s how he got into contracting, actually.”

“Is that so?” Lucifer commented neutrally, glancing around the room.

An attractive brunette woman called out from behind the bar. “Hey, boys. Just sit anywhere, and I’ll be over in a minute to get your orders.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cas replied, wondering if that was the Ellen that Dean spoke of so fondly. He turned to Lucifer. “So, table or booth?”

Lucifer waved a hand for Cas to lead the way. “This is your thing. You pick.”

Cas led them to a booth tucked away in the corner and sat down. “So, I guess I should explain about earlier.”

Lucifer set down the menu he’d been holding by the corners, grabbed a napkin, and wiped off his hands. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

Before Cas could speak, the woman from the bar approached. “Can I get you boys started on anything to drink?”

Lucifer spoke up first. “Can I get a Macallan 18, neat?”

The woman rolled her eyes at him. “Boy, this is The Roadhouse, not Buckingham Palace.”

Cas laughed. He liked her already.

Lucifer pulled his lips into a tight smile. “Whatever’s on tap, then.”

“Same for me,” Cas smiled. “By the way, you’re not Ellen, by any chance, are you?”

“One and the same. Why, who’s asking?”

“My name’s Castiel.” He held out his hand. “I’m a friend of Dean’s.”

Ellen’s face visibly brightened as she shook Cas’ hand. “So you’re the famous Cas, huh? Well, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name we keep hearing about.”

Cas blushed. So, Dean had talked about him? _Nope. Stop it, Cas._ “Same here. Dean speaks very fondly of you.”

“Well, I’m very fond of him. He told me about what you did for him last weekend, by the way. That was mighty nice of you.”

Cas could feel himself blush and waved her off. “It was nothing.”

“Still, he needed it. That boy’s had a rough year. He’s lucky to have you,” Ellen insisted.

Lucifer quietly cleared his throat. Ellen gave him a sideways glance, appraising him. “So, you boys ready to order, or you need another minute to look at the menu?”

Lucifer jumped in. “Two burgers, please. Medium-well.”

“You got it,” Ellen replied, turning to Cas with a wink. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

“Thank you, Ellen.” Cas gave her a smile, and turned back to Lucifer. “I’m so sorry. Where were we?”

“You were just about to tell me why I blew off a dinner reservation at a 5-star restaurant to come to this place,” Lucifer quipped.

Cas winced at Lucifer’s tone, but he knew Lucifer was right. An explanation was in order. Probably an apology, too. “Café Beautiful was a place my ex and I used to go to. We celebrated our first anniversary there, as well as a few other occasions over the years.” He took a deep breath and blew it out before continuing. “He took me there for my birthday last August. Later that night he told me he would be going out of town for a few days the following month for a business trip. Instead he moved out. I never saw or heard from him again.”

Lucifer winced. “Cas, that’s terrible. I had no idea.”

“I know you didn’t.” Cas shook his head. “And I’m sorry I ran off like that. I was a little freaked out, I admit, but my behavior was uncalled for.”

Lucifer reached across the table and took Cas’ hand. “Forgiven.”

Ellen arrived and dropped off two beers and two plates of the most mouth-watering burgers and fries Cas had ever seen. “Here you go, boys. Enjoy.”

“Thank you, Ellen. This looks amazing,” Cas commented.

“You boys let me know if you need anything, hear?”

Cas nodded and reached for the ketchup bottle as Ellen returned to the bar. He added the perfect amount to his burger, picked it up, and moaned in pure bliss at the flavors that exploded in his mouth. “Oh, my God. I can die now. This is amazing.”

Lucifer leaned in and gave Cas a suggestive smirk. “Well, anything that has you moaning like that is definitely a good thing.”

Cas almost choked on his bite before managing to swallow. Almost. “Are you saying you’d like to hear more later?”

“No.” Lucifer shook his head slowly. “I’ve caught the audio show. I think it’s time for a live performance, don’t you?”

Cas could feel the heat creeping across his face at Lucifer’s implication. It had been seven months since he’d last been with someone, not counting the aforementioned phone sex with Lucifer, and his previous lover was still the only man he’d ever been with. He’d known the day would come sooner or later when he’d finally have sex with someone other than Balthazar. Did he want that night to be tonight? And that person to be Lucifer?

A shy smile spread across Cas’ face. “Yes. Yes I do.”

Lucifer smiled as he took a sip of his beer. “Good.”

Cas was suddenly too nervous to do anything but keep eating his burger. Thankfully Lucifer recognized Cas’ anxiety and shifted into less charged conversation. “So, what were you and that waitress talking about earlier? What were you up to last weekend that you skipped out on the training run?”

Cas smiled at the memory. “Dean and I took a day trip to Worlds of Fun,” he explained as he ate. “His ex was getting remarried, and he needed a distraction.” Cas told Lucifer all about driving to Kansas City, his first time riding a roller coaster, the Royals game that night.

Lucifer set his half-eaten burger down and lay his napkin across it, folding his arms across his chest. “Sounds like you guys had a good time,” Lucifer remarked. If there was a trace of suspicion in his tone, it went straight over Cas’ head.

“We did indeed,” Cas nodded as he polished off the last of his dinner, smiling to himself as his mind shifted from reminiscence of the past weekend to the thrill of the present and the man in front of him. “But I’ll bet you and I will have an even better time later tonight.”

Lucifer offered a tight smile in return and polished off the last of his beer.

Cas folded his napkin and placed it on top of his empty plate. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I have to run to the men’s room before we go.”

He headed toward the rear of the bar, smiling to himself as he realized how much better he felt about everything. Things with Lucifer were definitely headed in the right direction, and were going to get even better once the pair got back to Cas’ place.

Cas returned a few minutes later to find the table empty and Lucifer at the bar signing the check. He slipped in behind Lucifer, stroking his hands along Lucifer’s sides, murmuring in Lucifer’s ear. “So, shall we stop for dessert somewhere? Or do you want dessert back at my place?”

“Sure. Whatever you want,” Lucifer responded distractedly. He pulled Cas’ hands away and turned around with a frown. “Before we go, though, I have to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me.”

“Okay,” Cas hedged. Lucifer’s demeanor was making him nervous now. What happened while he was in the bathroom? Things had been going so well.

“Is there something going on between you and your friend Dean?” Lucifer asked bluntly.

Cas could feel his heart suddenly hammering out of his chest. Where was this coming from all of a sudden? He had no idea what to say. What was he supposed to say to that? He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to speak, even if the proper words did somehow present themselves.

“I’m sorry to be so direct, but…” Lucifer paused, searching for the right words. “It’s just that, you have this look of fondness in your eyes every time you mention him. Then you brought me to this place where he used to work, and you talked about him the whole night. Plus, you ditched me last Saturday to spend the whole day with him. If there’s something going on between you two, I’d like to know before things get serious between us.”

Cas was mortified. The whole point of this night was to reconnect with Lucifer, and instead he’d spent the entire evening pushing the man away without even realizing it. And over what? Some stupid crush that he refused to indulge any longer and was never going to lead anywhere anyway?

“I know I’ve been busy all week, and we haven’t seen much of each other lately, and I’m sorry about that. But before we take this thing any further, I need you to be straight with me, Cas,” Lucifer pleaded. “I like you, and I think there’s something here. Something worth pursuing. But I won’t compete for your affection, or your attention.”

“No, Lucifer.” Cas looked Lucifer in the eye, pleading for Lucifer to believe him. “There’s nothing going on between Dean and me. We’re friends, nothing more. I apologize if I’ve led you to think otherwise.”

“Cas, I need you to be sure about this,” Lucifer insisted. “Because if you’re just settling for me when you’d really rather be with someone else, let me know now. You’re not the only one afraid of getting hurt here.”

Cas felt like the world’s biggest ass. Lucifer was right; he wasn’t being fair. _Well, it’s time for that to stop_ , he told himself. _Once and for all. Dean is a fantasy, and it’s time to let it go._

_This is real. Lucifer is real. And he likes you. That’s something, right?_

He reached across the table and took Lucifer’s hand in his own. “I want to be with you.”

Lucifer seemed unconvinced, but gave a tentative smile and a nod as he squeezed Cas’ hand in return. “Okay.”

They walked to the car and drove on in silence. Cas couldn’t shake the feeling, however, that it was an awkward, uncomfortable silence, and that things were still pretty shaky between them. He was so sure when they’d left the restaurant that they’d come to some sort of understanding. Now he wasn’t so convinced, and began to wonder where he’d gone wrong.

Lucifer dropped Cas off at his house, not getting out of the car, not inquiring when they’d see each other again, just giving a simple, “Goodnight, Cas.”

“Thank you for dinner, Lucifer,” Cas stammered, needing to say something just to break the tension. “I’ll call you, okay?”

Lucifer nodded. “Okay, Cas.”

Cas was left standing alone in his driveway, half feeling like he’d been caught cheating, half feeling like he’d just been dumped. He had no idea where things stood with Lucifer now, or if there was anything left there to salvage. Hopefully Lucifer would come to accept his apology and give him another chance.

He retreated to his kitchen for a nightcap and picked up his phone off the charger. Of course, there was a message from Dean. Because Cas needed this night to get worse.

**You free tomorrow night to help me celebrate? I sold my first pieces this week. Sammy’s grilling steaks. ;)**

He had completely forgotten. Dean’s web site launched a few days ago. Cas wanted to accept Dean’s dinner invitation and text him back with an “of course you sold a few pieces; you’re amazing and talented,” but now he was second-guessing himself. Would that be inappropriate considering he and his boyfriend just basically fought about Dean? He really didn’t want to be put in a position to choose between the two most important men in his life.

Cas texted Dean back with a quick “sorry, I can’t, maybe later this week” and went to bed more confused than ever.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean babysits Blake, Cas sees Lucifer for the first time since their fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some quoting of Cooking Fast and Fresh with West. I couldn't resist.

“Unca Dean! Unca Dean! I gotta go potty!”

Blake came running into the kitchen, where Dean had ducked in to check on the spaghetti sauce. He quickly replaced the cover on the pot, lowered the heat on the stove, and turned around to check on his niece. She was dancing frantically in place holding both hands between her legs, one foot crossed over the other. If she didn’t look so supremely uncomfortable Dean would have snickered at how adorably cute she was.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s get going.” Dean waved his hand in the general direction of the bathroom. Blake took off running; she did not have to be told twice.

Dean hovered in the doorway while Blake lowered her shorts, climbed up her stepstool, and sat down. He had been a little worried when Sam dropped Blake off earlier with a quick “oh, by the way, she’s potty training now,” but it appeared his niece had this thing down pat.

“Unca Dean?”

“Yeah, Doodlebug?”

“Can we watch the pin’cess movie?”

“Tell you what,” Dean proposed. “You wash your hands real good after you finish up, eat all your dinner, and then we’ll watch the princess movie. Sound good?”

“Sound good,” Blake nodded. “Unca Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I put on my pin’cess pajamans now?”

Dean always tried to keep his “serious face” on when bargaining with his niece, but lost his composure at the word “pajamans,” the laugh escaping his lips before he could hold it in. “After dinner we’ll take a bath. Then you can put on your princess pajamas. Okay?”

“Okay.” Blake finished up, pulled her shorts back up, and dragged her tiny stepstool – pink, of course – to the sink to wash her hands.

While she was singing her ABCs at the sink, Dean heard the front door open. “Dean?” he heard Cas call out.

“In here,” Dean called out. “Be out in a sec.”

Blake turned around, her brow furrowed in concern. “Who’s ‘at, Unca Dean?”

“That,” Dean explained as he picked up his niece and swung her up over his head while she giggled, “is my friend Cas. He’s gonna eat dinner with us. You wanna meet him?”

“Uh-huh,” Blake nodded, eyes wide with excitement, and wiggled her way out of Dean’s grasp. She took off running into the living room where Cas was patiently waiting, and announced upon her arrival, “I went pee-pee inna potty!”

“That is a very important skill to master,” Cas stated. “You are clearly a very smart girl.”

“Uh-huh,” Blake agreed.

Cas held out his hand. “I’m Cas. What’s your name?”

“I’m Bake,” she exclaimed, placing her tiny hand in his. Dean’s heart melted at the sight.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Blake,” Cas replied. “Are you having lots of fun with your Uncle Dean?”

“Uh-huh. I like Unca Dean’s house.” Blake climbed up onto the sofa and sat next to Cas, turning toward him with her best sad-face. “But… but… but… he doe’nt have a puppy.”

Cas glanced at Dean, eyebrows quirked inquisitively.

“She’s been begging Sammy for a dog,” Dean explained.

“Ah,” Cas nodded, turning back toward his tiny seat-mate. “My sister Anna has a dog. You wanna see a picture?”

Blake nodded earnestly. Cas pulled out his phone and scrolled through his photos, holding it out for Blake to see. Her eyes widened in excitement. “Wow. I like dat puppy.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile watching Cas converse with Blake like they were the oldest and best of friends. He leaned over Cas’ shoulder to take a closer look at the photo in question; it was Dani and Zach, Cas’ niece and nephew, with a miniature Dachshund, perfectly Blake-sized.

“Well, Toby’s not a puppy anymore,” Cas explained as he replaced the phone in his back pocket. “He’s 12 years old now. That makes him a grown-up dog.”

Blake seemed skeptical. “But he’s little.”

Cas shrugged. “Some dogs are little, even when they’re grown-up dogs.”

“Yeah,” Blake agreed. “But… but… but… people? Don’t have tails.” She climbed off the sofa and marched into the kitchen, the matter clearly settled.

Cas looked up at Dean, eyes dancing with laughter. “Well, you learn something new every day.”

“Yeah.” Dean smiled. “I guess so.”

They followed Blake into the kitchen, where she had resumed her earlier activity of coloring at the kitchen banquette table. Dean reached into the refrigerator and pulled out two beers, handing one to Cas.

“So, where are Sam and Sarah tonight?” Cas inquired.

“Date night.” Dean took a swig of beer and glanced at his niece, who was humming some Disney song while she colored a tree purple. _That’s right, kid. Ignore the rules._

At least, um, Dean guessed it was Disney. Because he wouldn’t know, right? “I told ‘em I’d watch Blake overnight so they could have some time alone. They’re picking her up in the morning.”

Cas cocked his head to the side and smiled at Dean. “That’s awfully nice of you.”

“Yeah, well, Sam just finished up some big case. He’s been working pretty hard. Kid needs to relax a little,” Dean shrugged. It was just dinner at some fancy restaurant and a night in the Honeymoon suite, nothing special.

And Cas really didn’t need to know that Dean paid for the whole thing from the money he’d made from his first sales off the web site, or that he’d sold enough pieces now that he could quit working for Benny. Sam and Sarah were always doing so much for Dean; hell, they were the reason he sold all that stuff in the first place. Dean was just returning the favor.

“So, you offered to babysit, and then called me to come bail you out?” Cas teased.

Dean scoffed. “Dude, I never said I needed bailing out! Blake loves me. Hey Doodlebug!” he called out. “Who’s your favorite uncle?”

“Unca Dean!” Blake called out, feet kicking freely under the table. She didn’t even looking up from her coloring.

“Besides,” Dean continued, “You need some home cooking once in a while.”

“Unca Dean?” Blake called out from the table.

“Yeah, Doodlebug?”

“I’m hun’gwy.”

Shit, he probably should have started dinner earlier. He rifled through the cabinets, at last locating a box of crackers, and handed them to Cas. “Here, give her some of these. I’ll get the pasta started.”

Dean watched as Cas grabbed a seat across from Blake and tried to join in coloring while his niece inhaled her crackers. Every time Cas tried to pick up a crayon Blake would brush his hands away and scold, “No! Leave it alone!” Cas retaliated by making faces at Blake until she dissolved into giggles. Finally she relented and handed him a crayon.

Dean didn’t know who he enjoyed watching more, Cas or Blake. They were both pretty damn adorable.

Dinner beckoned, however; Dean rifled around his cabinets, finally locating his favorite copper-bottom stock pot. While he filled it at the sink, Cas sauntered back over and leaned in, whispering, “Dean, are you sure it’s okay that I’m here? I’ve still never even met Sam or Sarah. Won’t they be concerned about a stranger being around their daughter?” His breath was warm ghosting over Dean’s neck.

Now, in the past (or more specifically, ever since his sex dream about Cas), Dean would’ve dealt with Cas’ lack of personal space boundaries by moving away from Cas as fast as fucking possible. But now, ever since Dean’s post-Worlds of Fun suspicion that maybe there’s something here, that maybe these feelings go both ways, Dean found himself wondering. How far would Cas go with this, if Dean didn’t move away?

Instead of putting a little space between himself and Cas, Dean stood stock-still while he added some salt to the pot and continued nonchalantly. “Nah. I told him you were coming. He said he’s cool with it. In fact, his exact words were, ‘Oh, good. So there’ll be an adult in the house.’”

Cas laughed as he moved to the side and leaned his hip against the counter, facing Dean and still very much in Dean’s personal space. He dropped his voice almost a whole damn octave in that way that made Dean crazy. “Does that mean I’m in charge? Make sure you eat all your vegetables and get a bath before bedtime?”

 _Oh, it is fucking ON_.

Dean turned his gaze toward Cas and locked eyes as he darted his tongue out, licking his bottom lip, lowering his voice as Cas had done. “You gonna take me to bed, too? Tuck me in nice and tight?”

Cas coughed and stumbled back a step, tripping over his own foot. Dean turned back toward the cupboards, smiling to himself as he rummaged through the cabinets to look for boxes of pasta. Finally, fucking finally, Dean wasn’t the only one affected. He wished he could make Cas sweat like that all night long; that was just too easy.

But first, he had a hungry 3-year-old to deal with.

He crossed the kitchen, taking a seat at the banquette across from his niece. “So, Doodlebug? Which one do you want?” he asked, holding up a box of Rotini in one hand and a box of Rotelle in the other. “The one that looks like the twisty slide at the park, or the one that looks like tires?”

Blake peered up from her coloring, cracker crumbs covering her mouth and chin. She debated for a second before pointing at the Rotelle. “Dat one.”

“The one that looks like tires? You got it,” he winked. As he crossed the kitchen, he glanced at Cas, who was trying to hide a smirk. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything.” Cas quirked his eyebrows in a way that was _not sexy at all. Nope_.

 

* * *

 

Dinner was a rather messy event; Dean had forgotten what it was like eating with a 3-year-old. Blake and Cas seemed to get along famously, though, and spent the entire meal trying to outdo each other’s moans of “Mmm, mmm, mmm!” every time they took a bite of pasta. Dean would probably have gotten pretty turned on listening to Cas moan like that if there weren’t a giggly toddler at the table with spaghetti sauce in her hair.

Dean cleaned up the table while Blake dragged Cas into the bathroom so they could wash their hands together. He knew he should probably ignore the feeling of warmth it gave him to see the two of them together, acting all familial and domestic, but screw it. He was tired of ignoring how he felt. He stood in the kitchen doorway for a moment and watched, eavesdropping.

“Cas?” Blake asked while she scrubbed her hands with soap.

“Yes, Blake?”

“You wanna watch the pin’cess movie wif' me and Unca Dean?”

“That depends,” Cas hedged as he and Blake rinsed their hands. “Which princess are we watching?”

“Pin’cess Anna!”

“Well, in that case, I would love to join you. She’s my favorite princess, you know.” Cas handed Blake a towel. Fuck, he was good with her.

“Mine too!” Blake jumped off the stepstool and grabbed Cas’ hand, pulling him toward the living room. “Come on, less go!”

“Wait a second, Doodlebug!” Dean called out. “It’s not movie time yet.”

Blake stopped in her tracks and turned around. “But Cas gonna watch the pin’cess movie wif’ me,” she pouted.

“Bath first, remember? Then we can all watch the princess movie.”

“Yay! Baff time! Come on, Cas!” Blake pulled Cas towards the stairs, leaving Dean standing there all by himself. Geez, at this rate she’d probably be calling him “Unca Cas” before the night was over.

Cas had everything under control by the time Dean got to the bathroom; Blake was stripped down and serenading Cas with “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?” while the tub filled. Dean stood in the doorway and just watched while Cas took care of getting Blake clean, like he had done it every day of her life.

Dean was most definitely _not_ getting choked up watching them.

Watching them and imagining how Cas would be with Ben: helping him with his homework, laughing with him at dinner, cheering him on at his baseball games, sharing a movie on Saturday night.

As Dean stood there in the doorway, watching Cas take care of his niece like she was his own, suddenly he knew – he wanted this. He wanted Cas, like this, every day.

This wasn’t just a crush. This wasn’t just some passing infatuation he had. He couldn’t just let this go anymore, or keep telling himself to ignore it.

He was truly, honestly in love with Cas.

Now he just needed to figure out what to do about it.

 

* * *

 

“She fell asleep halfway through the movie just like that, with her head on my lap and her feet in Dean’s.” Cas smiled at the memory as he followed Pamela around the corner and back toward the store for the last leg of the final training run.

“Sounds like you found yourself a new best friend, there. Dean had better watch out,” Pam smirked.

“And Dean! I swear to God, he teared up when Princess Anna saved her sister’s life! I saw tears actually falling.”

“You mean you guys didn’t turn the movie off when the kid fell asleep halfway through?”

“No!” Cas laughed. “I asked, and Dean said not to, because ‘she might wake up and want to see the end.’”

“See, I told you! Your guy’s not as tough as he pretends to be. He’s just a big ol’ softie.”

Cas rolled his eyes at hearing the “your guy” comment for what felt like the hundredth time. He just ignored it now instead of correcting Pam, because she would invariably follow up with some variation on “methinks the gentleman doth protest too much.” And that was not what was happening. Even if he knew Pam was just teasing, he still had better keep his mouth shut.

It _was_ nice to see Dean like that though. The way he was with Blake, Cas suspected, was probably more the real Dean than Cas had ever seen. He could just imagine how Dean would be with Ben, or hell, how he probably was with Sam when they were growing up. It was touching to see first-hand how Dean threw his whole heart and soul into taking care of those he loved.

“So, you’re coming out with us, right? After the race?” Pam’s voice interrupted his reverie.

“Nah,” Cas dismissed. “I’m probably just gonna head home and soak in the tub for a while. I got a bag of Epsom salts with my name on ‘em.”

“Not _right_ after the race, dummy. That night. A bunch of us are meeting at The Beehive for drinks. What, Lucifer didn’t tell you?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. He did mention something about it,” Cas lied. “I just forgot the name of the place, is all.”

“You better be there!” Pam called out as she turned and headed toward the parking lot of the store. “You know you got sexy legs, but I’d sure like to see ‘em in something other than running shorts for a change!”

Cas waved at his friend and laughed in spite of himself as he continued down the street for the rest of his run. He glanced around, a little relieved to find himself alone for the remainder. Normally Lucifer would have joined him by now, but Cas was almost certain those days were over.

Ever since their disastrous date the previous Saturday Cas had called and texted Lucifer repeatedly, trying to apologize, trying to invite Lucifer over to his house or out for drinks, but every text, every voice mail went unreturned. Cas had finally given up and taken Dean up on his offer of spaghetti and babysitting.

It hurt, being ignored by Lucifer all week, but Cas knew he deserved it. He had screwed things up, there were no two ways about it; he was just glad Lucifer hadn’t made a scene before their run began earlier that morning. The dismissive way Lucifer had looked at him, though, pretty much clinched it. Cas wasn’t ready to say it out loud just yet, but he suspected the whole thing with Lucifer had run its course.

Just four more miles, then he’d never have to see the man again. Cas could go home and work on trying to get Lucifer out of his system.

 _Yeah, now I have two exes who left without actually dumping me_ , Cas thought dejectedly. _But at least I saw this one coming. That’s progress, right?_

Cas picked up his pace a little and knocked out the last few miles. As he crossed the store’s parking lot to grab some water, he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Cas! Cas, wait a second!” Lucifer called out.

_Dammit. So close._

Cas took a deep breath, gathering his courage before he turned around. What was he supposed to say? Hey, Lucifer? How are you? How was your week? Sorry I pissed you off? Give me another chance? Nothing that came to mind seemed quite right.

“Cas, listen…”

_Here it comes. You get to see what it’s like to get dumped in person. Lucky you._

“…I’m sorry.”

_Wait, what?_

“I’m sorry I got pissed at you last week. I really am. And I’m sorry I blew you off all week. I was confused, and I didn’t think you’d want to see me after the way I acted. But then I saw you earlier this morning and I just couldn’t let it go without saying any longer.” Lucifer looked Cas and pleaded with his eyes. “I’m sorry. I was way out of line, insinuating that you and your friend were involved. I should know that you’d never do something like that. I just hope you can forgive me.”

Relief flooded Castiel’s entire body. “No. No, I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m so sorry I gave you the wrong impression.”

“I just,” Lucifer sighed, searching for the right words. “The way you smiled when you talked about him. I don’t like the idea that there’s someone else out there that makes you smile like that. _I_ want to be the one that does that.”

“You do.” Cas knew those two little words were so not enough, but they were all he had at the moment. “You absolutely do, every single day. In fact, I think Dean gets sick of hearing how much you make me smile.”

 _Oh, shit_ , Castiel winced. _I probably shouldn’t have brought up Dean since we were basically fighting about him. Jesus, I am so bad at this._

Thankfully, Lucifer just smiled. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, I got something else that might make you smile,” Lucifer teased.

“Are you gonna show me, or is there some sort of hands-on demonstration involved?” Cas leaned in closer, now ready to close the gap between Lucifer’s delicious mouth and his own. He didn’t care who might be watching.

Lucifer turned and began to walk towards the store’s door front, cocking his head for Cas to follow. “We got a new shipment of t-shirts in this week with the new store logo. I think you’ll appreciate this new design.” 

Okay, so that wasn’t quite the reaction Cas had been hoping for, but he figured, hey, at least he and Lucifer cleared the air. He shrugged and followed Lucifer into the store. If a new t-shirt design was something Lucifer was excited about and wanted to show off, Cas was willing to support that.

Lucifer led Cas to the rear of the store, where his manager’s office was located. Cas caught a glimpse of the interior through the open door and didn’t see any boxes of shirts anywhere. Perhaps Lucifer had one stashed somewhere and the rest were in storage?

Once Cas was inside, Lucifer shut the door behind him and turned to face Cas. He caressed his hand along Cas’ cheek, and Cas leaned into the touch. He’d missed this so much.

Lucifer lowered his hands to Cas’ waist and pulled Cas in for a kiss. Cas sighed and wound his hands around Lucifer’s back, grabbing at those broad shoulders as he parted his lips to deepen the kiss. It was not at all what Cas had expected from someone as overtly sexy and blatantly flirtatious as he knew Lucifer to be.

It was soft and slow and languid, as if the two had all the time in the world, not wanting to take things further, but simply content to be in each other’s arms and still in each other’s lives.  It was full of apology for the past and full of promise for the future, from each to the other.

Cas had kissed Lucifer before, hell he had even had phone sex with the man, but nothing that had come before was like this. He knew in that moment that there was nowhere he would rather be than in the arms of the man who was kissing him right now.

At last they parted, and Cas leaned his forehead against Lucifer’s, breathing in the other man. When he’d woken up that morning, he’d thought that all of this was lost to him, that Lucifer was lost to him. But he’d been given another chance.

He was sure as hell not gonna fuck this up again.

Cas pulled back and gazed into Lucifer’s eyes, such a beautifully stormy shade of blue-grey, and smiled. “So, does this mean I don’t get a t-shirt?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe I almost deleted the babysitting scene? So glad I came back to my senses.
> 
> The whole puppy/"people don't have tails" conversation and the word "pajamans" both come from my nephew.
> 
> The name "The Beehive" comes from World's End, which I highly recommend.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is later than usual. I almost didn't post it tonight, but then I remembered -- it's marathon day!

Dean was crazy. It was time to call the guys in white coats and bring in the straightjacket. He was officially fucking nuts. It was the only explanation as to why he had woken up before 5 on a Saturday morning to head to Cas’ house.

Cas had asked Dean to come cheer him on during the race, though, so that’s what Dean was gonna do. Regardless of whatever else may or may not have been going on between them, Cas was still his best friend, and running a marathon was a big fucking deal. There was no way in hell Dean was gonna miss it.

He just wished that it wasn’t a half-hour drive away in freaking Olathe, though. Or that Cas wasn’t so determined to get there at 6 a.m., a whole friggin hour early. What was Cas gonna do for that hour, anyway? It’s not like he could get any more practice in or anything. Training. Whatever.

Not to mention the fact that Cas’ brother Gabriel was coming, too. Dean hadn’t seen Gabe since high school, and was 99.9% sure that the two had never even spoken to each other back then. What they were gonna do for the next five or six hours while Cas did his thing was beyond him. Dean just wished to God that either (a) Gabe didn’t know about the things Dean had done to Cas in high school, or that (b) if he did know, he’d forgiven Dean for it. If Cas could, surely Gabe could too, right? Or at least pretend for a few hours?

Fuck, this was gonna be a long day. But for Cas? He could do it.

Dean pulled up to Cas’ house just after 5:20, 3 coffees and a box of assorted donuts from Dunkin in hand. He preferred Starbucks’ coffee, but Dunkin had way better donuts. And this early? He could use a little sugary pick-me-up. Hell, they probably all could. And yeah, a little bribe never hurt, right?

He took a deep breath, steeling his courage for what was surely about to be a long day, and knocked on the door.

“Dean-O. Long time, no see, huh?” Gabe was smiling as he answered the door, so that was a good sign.

“Gabriel, hey. It’s, uh, good to see you, man.” He hoped that he sounded sincere enough. “I brought coffee and donuts. Help yourself.” Dean set the drink carrier on the entryway table as Gabe stole the box and opened it, smiling wide.

“Dean, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get on my good side,” he smirked as he reached into the box and pulled out a frosted donut topped with a Marshmallow Peep.

Dean grinned as he watched Gabe dig in. “Yeah, Cas might’ve mentioned something. I saw those on the rack and thought you might like ‘em.”

Gabe devoured the rest of the donut and sighed happily. “Dear God in heaven, you were right. I don’t care if this was blatant bribery. I like you.” He grabbed another and called out toward the rear of the house. “Cas! You have a gentleman caller! Shall I entertain him with embarrassing stories from your childhood while you get all dolled up?”

“Shut it, Gabe! I’ll be out in a sec, okay? I just can’t get these hair bows right.”

Dean took a sip of his own coffee as he grabbed a seat on the sofa, almost spitting it right back out as Cas’ words suddenly registered. “Did he say ‘hair bows’?”

Gabe grinned. “He didn’t tell you what he’s wearing for the race?”

Dean shook his head as Cas appeared in the doorway, not quite knowing what to react to first, because _fuck_. Cas was dressed in a blue gingham dress with puffy white sleeves, frilly white socks with lace around the ankles, and his running shoes spray painted red. And, of course, hair bows attached to his short, spiky hair via some hair barrettes that Dean was pretty sure he’d seen Blake wear before.

“Are you fucking kidding me? _That’s_ what you’re running in?” Dean gaped. “For twenty-six miles? On your first marathon?”

“I have my running shorts on underneath. And it _is_ the Oz marathon. I thought running in costume would be fun.” Cas held out his arms as he glanced down at his dress, brows furrowed. “What, you don’t like it?”

Dean had no words. He just stared at Cas, dressed as fucking _Dorothy_ , and… damn, Cas had nice legs.

He finally just had to shake his head and laugh, because that dress was just so… _Cas_. And, wow, that was _really_ something he never thought he’d say to himself. “Yeah, Cas. I love it. The blue really brings out your eyes, you know.”

Cas just rolled his eyes and turned back toward his bedroom. “Shut up, asshole.”

 

* * *

 

Gabe dropped Cas off as close as he could manage to the starting line just past 6 a.m. The sun wasn’t even fully up yet. “So, Dean-O, you wanna find some place to park and go back to sleep?”

Dean didn’t know if Gabe was kidding or not. “You serious?”

“These seats recline almost all the way; they’re pretty comfy. Or, you know, Cas isn’t even gonna finish ‘til almost noon. We could just head back home if you want.” Gabe glanced Dean’s way and winked.

“Actually, I, uh,” Dean hesitated. He knew Gabe was (probably) kidding, but he still wasn’t quite sure whether it was his place to make any suggestions for how to spend the day; even though it was just him and Gabe now, it still kinda felt like he was the third wheel. “I have a copy of the course map, and I had some ideas. About where we could go and see Cas. You know, cheer him on and all.”

“Hey, you know I was just kidding, right? Of course I wouldn’t miss this.” Gabe offered Dean a genuine smile, putting Dean a little more at ease. “So, what’s your plan?”

Dean pulled out his copy of the course map, which he’d printed out on his computer. It was marked with the locations where he thought they’d have the best chance of seeing Cas, along with his estimated times as to when Cas would cross each point. “I thought we could go here, around mile 2, first. I think he said they’re doing a wave start, right? So, I figure he’ll get to mile 2 around 7:40 or so, assuming he crosses the start line 20 minutes in. Then we can bum around for a few hours and get to the mile 16 mark around 10. It’s only 2 miles down this road here so we should have plenty of time. Then we could head back and find a good place to park and all in time to see Cas cross the finish line just before noon.”

“Not bad, Dean-O. How’s you figure all this out, anyway?” Gabe grabbed the map and inspected it more closely.

“I can add,” Dean muttered.

“No, no offense. I just meant, you don’t exactly seem like the mathematician type. I’m impressed, is all.”

“You know what I do for a living right? I’m assuming Cas told you at some point, since I helped him finish off his house and all. Well contracting, carpentry – it’s all geometry. Every single day I add fractions, find complementary angles, multiply area and square footage, all in my head. I may not be the smartest guy you’ve ever met, but basic math I know, and calculating Cas’ 10-minute-mile pace across 26 miles isn’t exactly hard. My 10-year-old could’ve done this.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. You’re the math guy. I trust you.” Gabe handed the map back. “So, we start at mile 2 then?”

Dean replaced the paper in his back pocket and nodded. “Mile 2.”

Gabe followed the map and parked at the Eastgate Shopping Center, just a block north of the mile 2 marker. Dean considered for a minute taking Gabe up on the earlier idea of reclining the seats and taking a nap, but he didn’t want to risk oversleeping. This day was about supporting Cas, and Dean would never forgive himself if he missed his chance to cheer for his friend.

They hung out in the car until a little before 7, making small talk about their lives and their families. The topic of high school was patently avoided, for which Dean was grateful. Dean was actually starting to think that Gabe was an alright guy and that he just might make it through this day with minimal discomfort.

By some unspoken mutual decision, they exited the car at 5 minutes ‘til 7. Gabe stopped and gave Dean a smirk before he unlocked the trunk of the car.

“What?” Dean asked, wondering what Gabe was up to.

“Kali and I made a few signs to, shall we say, cheer the runners on,” Gabe grinned. “Plus, I made a promise to Cas.”

Dean glanced in the trunk, finding two decorated posterboards alongside a cooler full of beer. “Seriously?”

Gabe smiled wide. “Oh, yeah.”

 

* * *

 

This was so not how Dean had imagined himself on this day, but here he was, just after 7 a.m., standing next to Gabe, with a beer in one hand and a sign reading “ _If the marathon was easy, they’d call it ‘Your Mom’!”_ in the other.

“Nice, huh?” Gabe asked, pointing at his handiwork with his beer bottle.

“Where did you come up with these, anyway?” Dean shook his head as he glanced again at Gabe’s sign, which read “ _No more Saturday long runs = the return of Friday night sex!_ ”

Gabe shrugged. “The internet.”

The first few elite runners came past at just before 10 after 7, with the packs of runners getting more and more dense as the minutes passed. “You think we’ll even be able to spot him?” Dean wondered aloud.

“He’s 6 feet tall and dressed as Dorothy Gale. I think we got a good shot.”

Sure enough just before 7:40, Dean spotted Cas. He was running just behind the 4:30 pace group flag, held by a blond guy in a black t-shirt advertising that running store, Run Like Hell. Cas was smiling. He looked good.

“So, have you met Lucifer yet?” Gabe inquired.

“No. Not really in a hurry to, either. Why?”

“You see that guy leading the pace group?” Gabe asked. “That’s him.”

Dean did a double take. The man was not at all what Dean had pictured. Somehow he thought Lucifer would look a little less… douche-y. _Probably shouldn’t tell Cas that, either_. “That’s Lucifer?”

Gabe nodded. “One and the same.”

Something in Gabe’s tone of voice gave Dean the impression that Gabe wasn’t too fond of the man either, but he decided not to push it. Cas was approaching. Dean held his sign up a little higher and waved. “Looking good, there Cas! Only 24 more to go!”

“See, I told you I would drink beer and mock you, you moron!” Gabe held up his beer bottle. "I knew you liked it long and hard, but this is taking it a little too far!"

Cas laughed and waved one last time as he passed amongst the crowd of runners.

Gabe turned to Dean as Cas disappeared from view. “So, breakfast?”

“We just had coffee and donuts. And beer,” Dean retorted.

“So, second breakfast then?” Gabe asked hopefully. “Come on, we’ve got almost 2 hours to kill before we meet him at mile 16.”

Gabe pulled out of the Eastgate Shopping Center parking lot and drove east along Santa Fe St. until he caught sight of a Perkins Restaurant. “Mammoth muffins and bottomless beverages, here we come!”

An hour later, breakfast plates long emptied and almost two pots of coffee polished off, Dean was really starting to like Gabe. The guy was hysterically funny, and full of embarrassing stories about his younger brother as a child. Dean didn’t think he’d ever stop teasing Cas now that he knew about the time their mom called the cops because Cas was missing, only to find him asleep behind the sofa several hours later.

“And the cops actually came to the house?”

“Yes! Flashing blue lights and everything. Anna and I thought it was the coolest thing ever.”

“So who found him?”

“Mom did. While the cops were questioning our neighbors. And here’s the kicker.” Gabe pointed toward Dean with his coffee mug.

“What?”

“When mom asked him why he was hiding, he said it was because he’d peed in his pants and he thought he was gonna get in trouble.”

Dean threw his head back and laughed harder than he remembered doing in ages. Yeah, Cas was never gonna live this down now. “Oh, man, That’s awesome.”

Gabe glanced at his watch. “We’d probably better head out. Make sure we get there in time to find a place to park.”

Dean picked up a muffin and an ice water to go on the way out, just in case Cas needed some re-fueling. He and Gabe headed to Frontier Park, where the marathon course veered off the roads onto the Indian Creek Trail, and found a good vantage point where they would be sure to see Cas.

Just after 10:00 the 4:30 pace group passed by, but no Cas. By 10:05 he still hadn’t come into view. Dean was starting to get worried. He pulled out his phone just in case; there were no messages. “You think he’s okay? We should have seen him by now.” According to Dean’s calculations, Cas should have passed by already. Something was wrong.

“He’s fine, Dean. He’s run this far dozens of times.”

“Yeah, but this is different. You don’t think he could be hurt, do you? They’d call one of us, right?”

“Dean. Don’t get your panties in a twist. He probably just had to stop and pee at some point; he stared hydrating at 4:30 this morning.”

Five minutes later Dean spotted that blue gingham dress and his shoulder sagged with relief. Cas was still running; he wasn’t hurt, or lying in a ditch somewhere, thank God. Dean caught Cas’ eye and waved. Cas’ face broke into a wide grin and he waved back as he approached.

“Looking good, there, Dorothy! You need some water? Or carbs?” Dean held up the cup of water and Perkins takeout bag. “We got you covered.”

Cas waved a dismissive hand as he passed by. “I’m good. You boys behaving?” he smirked.

“Not on your life,” Gabe called out. “And you’re still a moron! You do know the first guy to do this dropped dead at the end, right?”

Cas just rolled his eyes and turned back toward the course. When he finally disappeared into the trees Dean and Gabe made their way back to the car. They had about two hours before Cas was due to finish, but decided to go ahead and wait at the finish line. When they arrived there was a pretty sizeable crowd gathered to cheer on the runners as they passed through the finish line banners.

“Can I ask you something, Gabe?” Dean inquired as he and Gabe found a spot under a tree to kick back and relax as they waited.

“Shoot.”

“What do you think of Lucifer?” Dean had been debating whether to ask since early that morning and finally decided to screw it. He wanted to know.

Gabe shrugged. “Well, I’ve only met him once, so I don’t know if that’s much to go on.”

“It’s just that, I kinda got the feeling earlier that you don’t like him much. I was just wondering.”

Gabe pondered for a moment. “Okay, but you can’t tell Cas I said this, okay?”

Damn, now Dean was intrigued. “You got it.”

“Has he told you a whole lot about Balthazar?”

“A little,” Dean replied. “Why?”

Gabe paused for a second, and Dean could’ve sworn he saw a flash of anger cross Gabe’s face. “Lucifer took Cas to Café Beautiful last weekend.”

Dean’s eyes widened in surprise. Cas had told Dean all about his and Balthazar’s history with that place, and how it reminded him of their breakup. “Are you kidding me? Dude, that’s like Cas 101!” Geez, no wonder Cas had seemed off all week; he was probably freaked out.

“Exactly! And I get that Lucifer probably didn’t know that, but I kinda got the feeling that he was a little pissed when Cas wanted to leave.” Gabe pulled a long blade of grass out of the ground and twirled it around in his fingers. “Plus, Cas has said that he’ll go days, sometimes a whole week before Lucifer will respond to any of his calls or texts. I just don’t think he’s as into Cas as Cas is into him.”

“He never told me any of that.”

“He didn’t even really tell _me_ that; it’s just what I’ve picked up here and there. Anyway, they’ve made up for now, but as far as I’m concerned, guy’s a bag of dicks. He doesn’t deserve Cas.”

“I am so relieved to hear you say that. I thought it was just me.”

“Now don’t get me wrong; I’m glad Cassie’s finally getting back out there. Last year? That was a rough few months after Balthazar left him. I’ve never seen Cas that bad off. But this guy? I don’t know. He just doesn’t seem like Cassie’s type.”

Dean wondered what that type might be, and if he would ever come anywhere close to fitting that description.

“While we’re on the subject, Dean-O, I gotta tell you something. And if you ever tell Cas I said this I will deny it, you hear me? ”

Dean nodded. “You got it.”

“I know all about your history with Cas. The things you said to him back in high school.”

Dean’s heart sank. So, here it was.

“Before you came along? He used to be so happy. Vibrant. Then all of a sudden, he’d just come home and lock himself in his room all night, not talk to anyone. He finally broke down after a few months and told me. I was so pissed at you, you know? I wanted to kill you with my bare hands, and I would’ve, but he asked me not to.”

“Gabe, you know I’m…”

Gabriel held up his hand, asking Dean to stop. “Then prom night happened. I still don’t know what you said to him that night; he never would tell me. But I gotta tell you, sometimes I don’t know what was worse, seeing his face after Balthazar left, or seeing his face after that night.”

Dean felt sick. If Cas had never told Gabe, then that meant he’d probably never told anyone what Dean had said that night.

_No one’s ever gonna love you._

Cas carried that burden by himself all these years. It broke Dean’s heart to think about. He wished, to the very core of his being, that he could turn back the clock and take those words back.

Especially since they weren’t true. They weren’t true now, and they certainly weren’t true back then.

Someone liked Cas a whole lot back then, he was just too much of a coward to realize it.

Someone’s dad had made damn sure of that.

So instead of facing his fears, someone became a dick and a bully and took it all out on the person who least deserved it.

Now someone may or may not have lost his shot.

Since he and Cas had become friends, they had never even discussed any of this; they’d just sort of pretended it never happened and moved on. Dean had imagined a hundred times since then how the conversation would go, and it always made him uncomfortable to think about. But somehow hearing it from Gabe? It was way worse.

He needed to hear this, though.

“When he told me that he’d run into you again back in December and that you were gonna help him with the house, I thought it was a terrible fucking idea. But he saw something in you, and he asked me to trust him. So I did.” Gabe looked at Dean until Dean returned his gaze. “I don’t know what happened to you back in high school that made you do all that, and I don’t wanna know. That’s between you and Cas. But now? I can tell you’ve changed. You’re a good person, Dean, and you’re good for Cas. He’s lucky to have you.”

“Thanks, man. That… that means a lot.” Dean blinked back a few tears. “But I’m the lucky one.”

Gabe checked his watch. “Come on; it’s about that time.”

Dean followed Gabe toward the finish line and found a good spot to watch. At 10 minutes after noon, Cas came into view, blue dress, hair bows and all, holding his arms up high as be passed under the finish line banner. Dean didn’t know who was smiling bigger, him or Cas, as Cas received his finisher’s medal while Dean snapped probably two dozen pictures on his phone. Dean couldn’t remember being so proud of anyone in his life.

Cas made a beeline for Dean and pulled him into a tight hug. He smelled like musk and sweat and body odor and salt and it was the best thing Dean had ever smelled. “You did it, Cas. I’m so fucking proud of you. You’re amazing, you know that?” _You’re amazing, and I’m sorry I was such a dick to you, even if you’ve already forgiven me for it, and I really don’t deserve you._

“Nah. Just persistent as fuck,” Cas replied with a laugh as he released Dean. “And Gabe is right. I _am_ a moron.”

“Hey, I tried to tell you,” Gabe teased as he hugged his brother. “Seriously, though. I’m proud of you, Cas. And you know what?” he added softly. “Mom would’ve been too.”

Cas gripped his brother tighter as the tears welled up. Dean pulled out his phone to text Sam and Sarah as he turned away to give the brothers their moment. He sent them a picture of Cas crossing the finish line; Blake would definitely get a kick out of Cas in his dress.

“So, how you feel?” Gabe asked as Cas pulled back and grabbed a leg to stretch.

“Okay right now. My feet are killing me, actually. I don’t think these socks were such a good idea. I’m gonna see if I can find something to drink. And food. I am starving. I’ll meet you back here in a few minutes and then I am taking these damn things off.”

“Sure thing,” Gabe replied.

Cas returned a few minutes later with a bottle of Powerade in one hand, a banana in the other, and a bagel in his mouth, and headed straight for the grassy area beyond the finish line. He toed his shoes and socks off and walked around barefoot, sighing in relief at the cool grass on his tired feet. “You know what this reminds me of?”

“No. What?” Dean asked.

“ _Stranger in a Strange Land._ When Jill introduces Smith to the joys of walking barefoot in the grass? I think of that book every time I do this.” Cas sighed and polished off the last of his bagel.

“‘Walk on living things?’” Dean quoted, smiling. “I remember that. I loved that book.”

“Wow. Math genius _and_ he reads Heinlein,” Gabe teased.

“And it’s so hot out here. Are you guys hot?” Cas reached back and unzipped his dress, pulling it off and tossing it aside. “Oh my god, that feels better.”

Dean tried not to stare as Cas stood there in nothing but his running shorts, all lean and sinewy and glistening with sweat, but _damn_. Cas was hot. He had a few chafe marks around his waist where the elastic of the dress rubbed against his stomach, and Dean wanted nothing more than to get Cas into a hot bath, massage his tired muscles, then lay him down and rub ointment all over those red marks, feeling the smoothness of Cas’ skin and the play of muscles underneath.

Dean coughed as he forced his eyes elsewhere, not wanting to be caught staring by Cas’ older, protective brother.

 

* * *

 

“So, Cas, how was it, anyway?” Dean asked. “Think you’ll do it again?”

They were in the car halfway back to Lawrence with the heat on full blast and Cas snuggled in the front seat under a blanket in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Somewhere along the way he had changed from “oh my God, it’s so hot” to “oh my God, I can’t stop shivering.” Thankfully, Cas had come prepared. He took a long swig of his Powerade and shrugged. “I started out fine. The course was nice and flat, no problems. Then I lost a few minutes around mile 9 when I had to stop and pee.”

Dean ignored the “I told you so” look that Gabe shot him as Cas continued. “Then I started to cramp up around mile 18, but there were some sorority girls at one of the water stops handing out pretzels. I think the salt helped. I also stopped seeing glitter everywhere after that.”

“Glitter?” Dean was gonna need a little more information there.

“Yeah. Everything looked all colorful and glittery. Then I had some pretzels and Powerade and the glitter went away. I thought it was a runner’s high but I guess I was just dehydrated.”

“Cas? Bro?” Gabe laid a sympathetic hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Do you miss the glitter?”

Cas just rolled his eyes and continued. “I don’t know if I’ll do another one. I’m sure I’ll be pretty stiff and sore for a few days, which is extremely inconvenient. Not to mention, it’s a pretty major commitment in terms of free time. But they say not to decide about the next marathon while you’re still running the first one, so maybe I’ll hold off on a moratorium for now.”

“So where’d Lucifer run off to? We didn’t see him at all after you finished,” Dean inquired. _Not that I’m complaining._

“He had to get back to the store right after the race. We’re meeting later at the Beehive with a bunch of the others from the training group to celebrate. You’re welcome to come, Dean. I’d love for you to meet him finally. And Pam! You have to meet her as well. I have a feeling the two of you will hit it off.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I should just leave you guys to it.” Watching Cas and his boyfriend as they celebrated was not exactly how Dean wanted to spend his Saturday night.

“Very well, then. Maybe some other time.” Cas looked so disappointed, and Dean felt like the biggest asshole. Cas had just run a fucking marathon, Dean had to remind himself. He deserved a celebration.

“Tell you what. Let me get a nap in, and text me the details. Maybe I can stop by later. I’m not picking Ben up until tomorrow anyway. Okay?”

The smile Cas gave Dean in return could have lit the whole county. “Okay.”

“I have plans, by the way,” Gabe interrupted. “So, you know, I can’t come. Not that I was invited.”

“I’m sorry, Gabe. Of course you’re invited. And Kali too. I’ll text her the details as well.” Cas sank into the seat and pulled his blanket tighter.

Cas had almost stopped shivering by the time they reached Lawrence. Gabe took the exit toward Cas’ house and Cas sat up a little straighter. “Do you mind if we stop somewhere and eat first? I’m still starving, actually.”

“Sure thing, bro. What’d you have in mind?”

“I’m dying for a cheeseburger. Could we go to the Roadhouse?”

Dean was _definitely_ on board with that plan. “Cas, you are in for the meal of your life. Wait ‘til you taste Ellen’s cheeseburgers. Woman’s a miracle worker.”

Cas just smiled back.

When the car finally stopped Cas exited with a groan. “I am so glad I still have that massage gift card from Anna. I’m definitely using it this week.”

Gabe just laughed. “Cas, you’ve been saying that for eight months.”

Dean clapped a hand on Cas’ shoulder as they entered the doors. “I can’t believe we waited for so long to come here. You are gonna love this place.” He spotted Ellen behind the bar and waved.

She immediately threw down her bar towel and came over to give him a hug. “Dean, how the hell are you?” She glanced behind Dean and let go as she spotted his two companions. “And Cas! It’s good to see you again. So who’s your friend?”

“Wait. ‘Again’?” Dean was confused.

“Hello, Ellen. This is my brother, Gabriel. Gabe, this is Ellen, owner of the Roadhouse and a good friend of Dean’s.”

“What do you mean ‘again’? When did you guys meet?” Dean demanded. Had he missed something?

“Lucifer and I came here for dinner last week when our dinner reservations fell through,” Cas explained and turned back to Ellen. “And since it was one of the best meals I’d ever had, I thought this might be a nice place to refuel after the marathon.”

“You just ran a marathon? Cas, that’s incredible! So, how do you feel?” Ellen looked like a proud mother. It made Dean smile.

“Thank you.” Cas smiled sheepishly. “Right now I’m ravenous, actually.”

“Well, let me fix that. Burgers all around?” The trio all nodded. “You boys grab a seat and I’ll see if I can scrounge up some pie while your food’s cooking.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile to himself as he joined Cas and Gabe in the large corner booth. So, Cas had met Ellen. And the two had hit it off, and pretty well, apparently. It made him happier than he could’ve dreamed, even if he wasn’t here when it happened. He wasn’t fooled by Cas’ dismissal of “our dinner reservations fell through,” especially after hearing Gabe’s story about Lucifer taking Cas to Café Beautiful the previous weekend, but Dean sure was glad that Cas came here afterward at least. If anything or anyone could turn a shitty night around, it was Ellen.

And now there was pie coming, too? This day was turning out to be pretty awesome. Maybe he would join Cas and Lucifer at the Beehive later. What’s the worst that could happen, really?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter - well, this entire marathon story line, really - was inspired by pictures of Misha Collins running in the yellow waitress costume. The Oz Marathon in Olathe is indeed a real thing, as I was ecstatic to discover, and their web site features a picture of a young man running in a Dorothy costume. I couldn't resist. My Cas is definitely part Misha.
> 
> I tried my best to verify all the details surrounding the race and the course, except for whether there is a wave start. That is the one detail I couldn’t actually verify.
> 
> Yes, I looked at the google earth view of the course until I found a spot where Dean and Gabe could eat breakfast that is situated between the two spots where they’re meeting Cas. I was almost as excited as Gabe when I saw Perkins Restaurant on the map halfway between the mile 2 marker and the mile 16 marker. lol
> 
> Dean's "I can add" comment is a quote from Apollo 13.
> 
> And all of Gabe's insults, both spoken and painted on posterboard, I found on google. No, I am not that clever.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's the worst that could happen?

Cas was more physically exhausted than he had ever been in his entire life. Everything hurt when he moved. Everything hurt even when he was still. Everything just fucking hurt.

It was one of the best feelings ever.

He’d run a fucking _marathon_ today.

Cas downed the last of his beer while he watched Lucifer at the bar ordering their next round. Well, okay, Cas wasn’t watching. He was downright ogling. And now that he wasn’t in Lucifer’s training group anymore, he didn’t have to hide the fact that he was ogling. The man had a damn fine ass, and Cas wanted to get his hands on it at some point tonight, pain be damned.

“You better close that mouth, Cas, or I’m gonna slip and fall on that puddle of drool you’re dripping all over the floor,” Pam teased as she downed another shot.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, will you _look_ at him?” Yeah, Cas definitely wanted his mouth somewhere on that body too.

“I don’t bother looking at him anymore. He doesn’t look back. Not at my half of the population, anyway.”

“Too bad for you. He is sex on a stick.” _And tonight he is all mine. At least as long as I can stay awake. Then he’ll be mine again tomorrow._

“Speaking of sex on a stick, will you look at what just walked in the door? _Damn._ ” Now Pam was the one with her mouth agape.

Cas turned toward the door and saw Dean standing in the doorway, looking around the room. Cas held up a hand and waved him over.

“Wait, you know him?” Pam balked. “You’ve been holding out on me. I need details, mister.”

“That’s my friend Dean.” Cas replied. “I’ve told you about him.”

“ _That’s_ Dean? How could you fail to mention that your _very single friend_ is panty-melting hot?” Pam smacked him on the arm.

Cas shrugged. “I guess I don’t think of him that way.” Well, he probably had at some point, but that was over, right? So, technically he wasn’t lying.

Dean came up and clapped Cas on the shoulder. “Hey, marathon man.”

“Hello, Dean,” Cas smiled. “Dean, I want you to meet Pamela Barnes, my realtor and training partner. Pam, this is Dean Winchester.”

“Cas has told me all about you.” Pam held out her hand. “But he somehow failed to mention how adorably handsome you are.”

Even in the low light of the bar, Cas could tell Dean was blushing as he looked down and the floor and smiled shyly. “Maybe Cas doesn’t think so.”

Lucifer appeared at the table, three bottles of beer balanced in his hands. “Cas, you should’ve told me you picked up a stray.”

“Lucifer, this is Dean. Dean, Lucifer.” This was nice, right? Two of the most important men in his life finally getting to meet? He smiled watching them shake hands.

“Nice to meet you, Dean. I’m sorry; I would’ve gotten you a beer too if I’d known you were coming.”

“I can get my own, thanks.” Dean cocked his head toward the bar. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll give you some company,” Pam offered. “Give these two lust-puppies a moment alone.”

Cas watched as Pam followed Dean to the bar and cozied up next to him while the bartender drew up his draught.

“I hope that poor sap knows what he’s getting into,” Lucifer chuckled. “Pam can be a handful.”

“Dean can handle himself,” Cas replied. “And, yes, Pam can come on a bit strong at times, but she’s got a good heart. I think the two of them will find they’ve got a lot in common.”

“So, is that why you invited him? To play matchmaker?” Lucifer turned back toward Cas and leaned in as he smiled. “You just want everybody to be happy, don’t you?”

Cas caressed his hand along the side of Lucifer’s neck, feeling Lucifer’s strong pulse. “And what would make you happy, hm?”

Lucifer reached his hands around Cas’ waist and pulled Cas closer. “This. Right here.” He leaned in and kissed Cas, soft and slow.

Cas shivered when he felt Lucifer’s hands work their way down from his waist to his ass. Damn, but that felt good. Why had he resisted this for so long?

Well, he wasn’t going to anymore, he decided as he and Lucifer parted with a loud smack of their lips. “Maybe later, we can head back to your place and I can find something else to do that’ll make you happy, hm?”

“I think I’d be amenable to that,” Lucifer murmured as he leaned in again. “You sure you’re up for such vigorous activity so soon?”

Cas smiled against Lucifer’s lips. “As long as you promise to go easy on me.”

“Maybe a little massage first, then?”

Cas smiled up at his boyfriend, lacing his fingers through Lucifer’s. “That sounds like a pretty good plan.”

 

* * *

 

Dean glanced at Cas while he waited at the bar for his beer. Cas had his hand on Lucifer’s neck, caressing it. Lucifer had his hands on Cas’ waist. They were kissing. Then Lucifer grabbed two handfuls of Cas’ ass and pulled Cas even closer.

That douchebag had called Dean a stray dog. And now he was kissing Cas.

Dean turned back toward the bartender. “Can I get a shot of Jack too, please?”

“I’ll have one also,” Pam ordered with a wink. “So, what are we drinking to tonight?”

“Being a fucking idiot,” Dean replied as he downed his shot.

“I guess I can drink to that.” Pam downed her shot and grabbed her beer. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s going on, there, tiger?”

Dean glanced at Cas, all cuddled up with Lucifer, then turned back to Pam. He didn’t even know this chick; why would he tell her about his fucked-up life, anyway? “Nothing,” he replied, taking a long swig from his beer.

“Come on, I know it’s not nothing. We’re here to celebrate, and you’re sulking like somebody just ran over your dog.”

Dean eyed her warily. “Why do you even care?”

Pam sighed. “Cas is my friend. And you’re his friend. And he says you’re good people. Maybe I’m an old sap, but I don’t like the idea of bad things happening to good people.” She grabbed the beer out of his hand and set it on the bar, patting the stool next to her. “Now why don’t you have a seat and tell me all about it, sugar?”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” Dean shook his head as he relented and sat down, his back to the bar so he could watch Cas and Lucifer. They weren’t kissing anymore, but they were still standing pretty fucking close, all smile-y and shit. Dean didn’t want to watch but he couldn’t tear his eyes away either. Yeah, he was a masochist.

“Nope. Now spill.”

Dean wasn’t convinced he was ready to spill anything to this person he’d just met. But if he did, and that was a big if, where would he even start? With the moment he’d realized he was in love with Cas, watching him with Blake?

Or the day he realized his crush on Cas may be a little more than a crush, as he drove them back from their day in Kansas City?

Or that time that Cas made him a hat out of newspaper and sang him “Happy Birthday”?

Or when Cas decided against his better judgement to give a second chance to someone who’d never been anything but an asshole and a dick to him?

Is that what Pam wanted to hear?

“What do you think of Lucifer and Cas?” was what he went with.

“I think Cas has been through a lot this year, and he deserves to have someone in his life who makes him happy. I think he and Lucifer make each other happy. I think they’re good together,” she replied.

Yeah, that’s exactly what he was afraid of hearing. That Cas is happy, and Dean isn’t the one making him that way. “You really think Lucifer’s good enough for Cas?”

Pam was quiet for a long moment. She eyed Dean, then Cas, then Dean again. “So, how long?”

Dean took a gulp of his beer and huffed. “How long what?”

“How long have you been in love with him?”

“Wha… I’m not,” he spluttered, then sighed in resignation. “So, that obvious, huh?”

“It is to me, at least now. But I’ll bet it’s not obvious to Cas, or you wouldn’t be over here with me sulking while he’s over there with someone else. Have you ever told him?”

“Nah.” Dean leaned back against the bar and let out a deep breath. “By the time I realized it he was already with Lucifer.”

“Wait, this isn’t some jealousy thing, is it? You don’t get to see your friend anymore because he’s spending all his free time having hot sex with his hot new boyfriend?”

Dean almost spit beer through his nose. “What? No! No, that’s not it. Besides, I don’t think they’ve had sex yet,” he muttered.   

“Well honey, if they haven’t yet, they’re definitely going to tonight. Will you look at them?” She glanced at Dean out of the corner of her eyes and her features softened. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m the idiot who didn’t know a good thing when it hit him over the head.” He downed the rest of his glass and gestured toward the bartender for another. “I don’t even know why I came here tonight.”

“I don’t know why you came, either, but I know what you’re gonna do now.” She swung back around toward the bar. “Two more shots of Jack, please?”

The bartender filled two shot glasses and Pam handed one to Dean. “You’re gonna get shitfaced, sing some bad karaoke with me, and you’re gonna have yourself a good time. You hear me?”

Wait, what? “This is a karaoke bar?”

“Yep,” Pam nodded with a smirk. “In about 10 minutes, that is.”

_Oh, what the hell_. Dean clinked shot glasses with Pam and downed his whiskey in one gulp. “Well, I don’t know about having a good time, but getting shitfaced sounds like a damn good plan.”

“Now you’re talking,” Pam smirked. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna find the most embarrassing song on the list and sign us up.”

 

* * *

 

Cas was feeling no pain whatsoever anymore. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was residual marathon high, maybe it was the man whose arms he was currently in. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. Cas was good.

He had never actually been to a karaoke bar before, but now that the DJ had arrived and the singers had started up, he had to admit, it was pretty fun. There was no way in hell he was getting up there, of course, but it was fun to watch. Well, most of it, at least.

A group of college girls finished up a drunken rendition of Katy Perry’s “I Kissed a Girl.” The room applauded; whether it was genuine appreciation of the entertainment or relief that it was over, Cas couldn’t decide.

“Can I get Pam and Dean up here?” the DJ announced. “Pam and Dean.”

Cas whistled and applauded as Dean downed the last of his beer. “Whatever is about to happen, please don’t hold it against me,” Dean grumbled.

The music started up and Cas couldn’t help but giggle as he recognized the tune. Oh, this was gonna be good.

Dean rolled his eyes when he saw which song was on the screen and scowled at Pam; she just grinned and started singing.

_“They say we’re young and we don’t know_  
_Won’t find out until we grow.”_

Dean sighed, picked up his microphone, and joined in.

_“Well I don’t know if all that’s true,_  
_‘Cause you got me, and baby I got you,_  
_Babe.”_  


Cas’ jaw dropped to the floor. Holy fuck.

Dean could _sing._

He'd heard Dean hum along to his tapes in the car while driving, but that was nothing like this. Now that Dean was actually _trying_ to sing? His voice was gravelly, all smoke and whiskey, but it was also pure, full of raw honesty and emotion.

It was not, definitely not, one of the sexiest things Cas had ever heard in his life.

Cas watched, mesmerized, as Pam and Dean flirted and cheesed their way through the rest of the song. Dean was definitely loosening up and getting more into it as the song went on. By the time they finished, to a rousing round of applause from the crowd, Dean was smiling bigger than Cas had seen him do all night.

Maybe introducing him to Pam was a good idea, after all.

“That was amazing,” Cas declared when Pam and Dean returned. “Dean, I had no idea you could sing. You’re really good.”

“Nah, not really. Just drunk enough to not be nervous, that’s all.”

“Yeah, not bad,” Lucifer huffed. “I guess I need to go sign up now. I do have a reputation to uphold, after all.”

Cas’ brow furrowed in confusion as Lucifer excused himself. “Reputation? What reputation?” he asked Pam.

“He won a karaoke contest here a few years ago. He prides himself on always doing the biggest crowd-pleaser of the night,” Pam explained. “He once had this entire bar singing along to 'Bohemian Rhapsody.' Even the bartenders, and they hear that shit every weekend.”

Well, now, this Cas just _had_ to see.

Lucifer returned a few minutes later with another round of drinks and a smug smile on his face. “So, what song are you doing?” Cas was dying to know now.

“You’ll see,” Lucifer replied coyly.

Cas tried to guess while they waited, but Lucifer just kept his mouth shut and smiled. By the time the DJ called Lucifer’s name, Cas was so excited to see what Lucifer had planned he could barely sit still.

When the opening chords began, Cas broke into a wide grin. He knew this song. He knew this entire movie, in fact.

Lucifer winked at him as he spoke the first lyrics:

_“How d’you do, I_  
_See you’ve met my_  
_Faithful handyman_  
_He’s just a little brought down_  
_Because when you knocked_  
_He thought you were the candyman.”_  


He had never before thought that watching someone sing “Sweet Transvestite” would be such a turn-on, but damn. Cas could barely take his eyes off the stage as Lucifer strutted around, shaking his hips, stroking his hands up his chest and down toward his crotch.  It was the most delicious kind of foreplay. Lucifer exuded sex from every pore with every word he sang and every swivel of his hips, and all Cas could do was just sit there and take it.

Then Lucifer looked straight at Cas as he crooned out “at night I’m one hell of a lover,” and Cas felt his entire body shiver with anticipation. Yeah, his cock was definitely on board with testing that theory. How he made it through the rest of the song without pulling Lucifer offstage and swallowing him down right then and there was a mystery.

When the song ended Lucifer jumped off the stage, immediately accosted by the drunken sorority girls from earlier. Cas couldn’t even find it in himself to be the slightest bit jealous; he looked on with a grin as his boyfriend politely pushed past them and made his way back to the table, still sweating and breathing heavily, reminding Cas’ cock once more of engaging Lucifer in another type of exertion.

“So, how’d I do?” Lucifer inquired with a cocked eyebrow.

Cas grabbed Lucifer by the belt loops and pulled him closer. “Mmm. You just might have to do that again later,” he purred in Lucifer’s ear. “But, you know, with fewer clothes.”

Lucifer chuckled in Cas’ ear. “Sounds like we got a pretty full agenda for tonight. Massage _and_ naked karaoke. I don’t know if we’ll be able to fit in many more activities.”

“There’s always tomorrow morning,” Cas responded with a smirk.

“Hold that thought.” Lucifer gave him a peck on the forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

Pam turned to Dean. Cas was pretty sure she was trying to be discreet, but she was still loud enough to be overheard. “You think you got one more in you, sugar?”

“Nah, I’m gonna pass. I think I’m done for the night.”

“Are you telling me you’re gonna let Lucifer show you up like that?”

“Pam, it’s over. I lost, Lucifer won.”

Pam just looked back at Dean, staring him down.

“Fine. But I get to pick this time.” Dean sulked off toward the DJ.

Lucifer returned and slid an arm around Cas’ waist. He leaned in and murmured in Cas’ ear, his warm breath making Cas’ spine tingle. “You ready to get out of here?”

Two minutes ago Cas would’ve said yes, but now he was kind of curious what else Dean had up his sleeve. “Pam and Dean are going to sing another song. One more round? Then we can go. Okay?” He slid his hand along Lucifer’s arm and gave a squeeze, hoping that the gesture would soften his words so that it didn’t seem like a rejection.

Lucifer eyed him for a moment. “Fine. Another round. But then, you’re all mine,” he winked.

Dean returned with an evil smile.

“What did you just do?” Pam asked him warily.

“You’ll see,” is all he would say.

A few songs later they were called up to the stage. Cas settled in against Lucifer once more as the music started. He recognized the song immediately; it was an ambitious choice. This was gonna be interesting.

A few minutes ago Dean had been quiet, almost somber. As the opening chords played, however, Dean did a complete 180; he smiled wide, grabbed the microphone, and belted out the lyrics like it was nothing.

_“I remember every little thing_  
_As if it happened only yesterday_  
_Parking by the lake_  
_And there was not another car in sight_  
_And I never had a girl_  
_Looking any better than you did_  
_And all the kids at school_  
_They were wishing they were me that night.”_  


Cas had never really liked this song, but now, watching Dean swagger about onstage, he could definitely see the appeal. Dean was a great entertainer, undeniably in his element. Then Pam joined in like she was born to sing this song.

_“Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night  
I can see paradise by the dashboard light.”_

Cas felt himself grinning wide watching the pair onstage. They had such a great natural chemistry that was infectious.

_“Ain't no doubt about it we were doubly blessed_  
_'Cause we were barely seventeen_  
_And we were barely dressed.”_

As the interlude before the second verse played something happened. It was subtle, not enough for anyone else in the bar to notice. But Cas knew Dean, and he could see something in Dean change infinitesimally, leaving Cas to wonder what was up.

And then Dean looked straight at Cas and winked.

It wasn’t a short, sharing-some-private-joke type of wink. It was slow, deliberate, almost… _sexual_. Like, an I-wanna-fuck-you-six-ways-to-Sunday type of wink. Cas felt his stomach drop. Was Dean flirting? Really, truly, actually flirting? Surely not. No, he was just performing. It was all an act.

And then Dean started to sing again. Cas was physically unable to tear his eyes away.

_“Baby don'cha hear my heart_  
_You got it drowning out the radio_  
_I've been waiting so long_  
_you to come along and have some fun.”_

It was unmistakable that time. Dean was staring straight at Cas as he sang those lyrics. Not at Pam, not at any other member of the audience, but at Cas. Cas felt his heart speed up as his mind started racing. What was Dean doing? Was Dean trying to tell him something?

No. No way. Dean was probably just drunk. Dean was definitely not interested, not in Cas, not like that. Dean was straight. Wasn’t he?

But Dean kept his eyes locked with Cas’ as he continued to sing, never breaking his gaze.

_“Well, I gotta let you know_  
_No you're never gonna regret it_  
_So open up your eyes, I got a big surprise_  
_It'll feel all right_  
_I wanna make you motor run.”_

Cas felt his mouth go dry. Holy shit.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

This couldn’t possibly be happening.

Cas barely registered the rest of the song. He was vaguely aware that Dean turned away and sang most of the rest of the song facing Pam, still turning to wink at Cas occasionally. He vaguely registered that when it was over the entire bar seemed to be cheering, but nothing was louder than the buzz of his own heartbeat in his ears. This was… he had no idea. This was confusing things. Dean was confusing him; why was he doing this? Why now?

 

* * *

 

Dean returned to the table with Pam, almost glowing from the smile splitting his face and the vague sheen of sweat covering his brow. “That was fucking awesome! I’m so glad you talked me into that, Pam.”

Being onstage with Pam was fun, but watching Cas watch him was definitely the high point of the night. Cas’ reaction when Dean winked at him? Just perfect. He could see Cas’ eyes widen just a little bit in surprise. And when he sang about wanting to “make your motor run” he could almost see Cas’ pupils dilate with arousal. He knew he was having an effect. The ground was laid. Now he just needed something, some little extra push, to seal the deal.

Fuck, this would be so much easier if Lucifer wasn’t here.

“You see? I told you. Getting shitfaced and singing bad karaoke. Nothing else like it,” Pam snickered.

“Bad?” Dean scoffed. “Speak for yourself. We should take that shit on the road.”

“That was actually pretty good,” Lucifer conceded.

“Wow. That’s high praise coming from you, Lucifer. I’ll take it.” Dean downed the last of his beer in one gulp.

“Cas, you ready to go? It’s getting late.” Lucifer turned toward Cas, who barely seemed to be paying attention. Lucifer placed a hand on the back of Cas’ neck and scratched his fingers through Cas’ hair. “And we have a to-do list to get started on, don’t we?”

“What?” Cas blinked, attention snapping back to the present. “Oh, right. Yes, we should go.”

“Well, then. I’ll go settle up at the bar.” Lucifer leaned in and gave Cas a peck on the corner of the mouth; Cas barely reciprocated. “Be right back.”

Dean really wanted to get Cas alone for a minute, but he had more pressing matters at the moment. Damn. “I gotta take a piss. Cas, don’t leave yet, okay?”

“Okay, Yeah, sure.” Cas still seemed a little discombobulated. Dean almost hated that he was making Cas feel that way.

Mostly he just wanted to see how much more and in how many different ways he could make Cas come apart.

Dean walked as fast as he dared to the men’s room and took care of his screaming bladder as quickly as possible. As he headed back to the table, he glanced toward the bar, where Lucifer was still chatting with the bartender. Damn, how long did it take to settle up a bill in this place, anyway?

“The song was right, you know,” he heard Lucifer tell the guy. “At night, I _am_ one hell of a lover.”

“I can’t just take your word for it, you know,” the guy replied, leaning over the bar toward Lucifer. “I think I’m gonna need proof of that, as soon as possible.”

“I can’t tonight.” Lucifer looked annoyed. “Maybe some other time?”

“Well, if you ever feel like ditching the stiff over there, give me a call. I’ll make it worth your time.”

Dean saw Lucifer steal a glance over his shoulder, then hand over his cell phone. “Give me your number, and a few days. We’ll make it happen.”

_What the fuck?_

Dean’s mind was reeling. He always suspected that Lucifer was a douchebag, but seriously? This wasn’t just some random guy handing over a phone number scribbled on a napkin. This was Lucifer _asking_ for a guy’s number and offering to hook up while his supposed boyfriend was twenty feet away.

That did it. Whatever reservations he might’ve had just vanished. It was now or never. He made his way back toward the table as quickly as he could. “Cas, could I talk to you? Outside, maybe?”

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow? I actually am kind of tired. I was a little busy this morning, remember?”

“No, Cas. This can’t wait. It’ll just take a second, okay? Please?”

Cas nodded. “Very well.”

Dean led Cas outside. They were finally alone. Okay, what now? Where should he even begin?

“Cas, please don’t go home with Lucifer,” Dean blurted.

“Why not?”

“Just, don’t.” Dean didn’t know exactly what to say, but he knew he didn’t want to be the one to tell Cas what a cheating dickhead his boyfriend was. Either Cas wouldn’t believe him, and would go home with Lucifer anyway, or Cas would believe him, and blame him for being the cause of things ending. Either way, Dean didn’t want to cause Cas any more pain. Cas had had enough pain in his life. “Cas, I’m begging you. Just, please don’t.”

“Dean, you’re not making any sense. Lucifer is my boyfriend. We’re dating. We have been for a while, and I’m going home with him tonight.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Dean pleaded. “Please, Cas.”

“Why not? Just tell me, Dean. What’s going on?”

_What’s going on? What’s going on is your boyfriend’s a dickhead who doesn’t deserve you because he’s too goddamn blind see how goddamn wonderful you are. What’s going on is I can’t bear the thought of you spending one more day with some asshole who doesn’t appreciate you, because he’s only going to break your heart. What’s going on is you’ve had enough pain for one lifetime, and yeah, some of it was caused by me, but I want find a million ways to make it up to you, because you make me want to be a better person._

Dean took a deep breath; too many things were rushing through his mind at once.

_Okay, fuck it._

“I’m in love with you, that’s what’s going on.”

Cas took a step back, his mouth agape. “Dean, this isn’t funny.”

“It’s not a joke, Cas. I am completely in love with you. I have been for a while, I just didn’t realize that’s what it was, because I never thought in a million years that someone like you would come along. But here you are, and you’re amazing, and kind, and generous, and passionate, and you ran a fucking marathon, and you sang princess songs with Blake, and you took me to a Royals game after I told you one single time about me and Sammy going when we were kids. You gave me a second chance when you had absolutely no reason to. And I know I didn’t deserve it then. I still don’t deserve it now, and I probably never will. But Cas, you make me want to spent the rest of my life trying.”

Dean took a step closer, and took Cas’ face in his hands, making Cas look him in the eyes as he confessed. “I am in love with you, Cas, and I want to be with you.” Then Dean leaned in, closing the distance between them, and kissed Cas.

Cas didn’t respond. He stood there, still as a statue, as Dean brought their lips together once, twice. Dean’s breath was shaky as he exhaled. He could feel the tears welling up. Cas wasn’t kissing him back. Cas wasn’t interested. Cas didn’t love him, and now Dean had ruined everything. He leaned back in a third time to give Cas one last kiss before saying goodbye, probably forever.

Dean let his lips linger just a moment longer as he kissed Cas one final time, and felt Cas’ lips moved infinitesimally against his own. Then suddenly Cas grabbed Dean by the waist and pulled him closer, crashing their bodies together. Dean sighed as he felt all the remaining apprehension drain from Cas’ body. Cas felt like home, and Dean never wanted to let go.

Cas parted his lips and Dean followed, licking into Cas’ mouth. Their tongues caressed one another, hot and wet and perfect. Dean could feel Cas moaning against his mouth, sending delicious waves of vibration throughout his whole body, and his hands were fucking _everywhere_.

Dean had his hands in Cas’ hair, that soft hair that he never wanted to let go of; his back, lean and sinewy and muscular; his ass, that sinful ass that he needed more of right fucking now. He placed both hands on Cas’ ass and pulled him flush, bringing their pelvises into sweet, blissful contact. Holy fuck, that was good. Now Dean was the one moaning into Cas’ mouth as Cas, sweet Jesus, did something with his tongue that Dean definitely needed more of.

This was about to cross the line into x-rated territory pretty fucking quickly, but Dean would be damned if he’d be the first one to let go.

“Cas?”

Cas pulled away suddenly, almost biting Dean in the process. Dean turned to see who belonged to the voice that so rudely cockblocked him. Whoever it was, was gonna get an earful.

“Lucifer? What…” Cas spluttered.

“Pam told me you’d stepped outside. She failed to tell me why, however.” Lucifer stormed off toward his car.

“Lucifer, please…”

“Cas, I asked you. Specifically. Was there anything going on between you and Dean. You assured me there wasn’t.”

Cas followed him, pleading. “There wasn’t, Lucifer. There isn’t. Please, I just…”

“Don’t, Cas. Just don’t.” Lucifer slammed his car door and drove off.

Dean couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry for Lucifer, not one little bit. Cas, on the other hand, looked pretty fucking awful. Dean just wanted to wrap his arms around Cas, just hold him and make this all go away. “Cas, come here.”

Cas twisted away from Dean, his eyes full of fury. “How could you do this to me?” He turned and stalked away toward his car.

“Cas, wait! Just, Cas, talk to me.”

“No, Dean. Just stay away from me. You’ve done enough.” He slammed the door shut behind himself without another word, leaving Dean standing there alone in the parking lot wondering if, somehow, he’d just lost Cas for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was not inspired by Demon Dean, as you might suspect. In fact, I wrote this chapter long before any of that happened, and as of this posting, I still haven't watched any of season 10.
> 
> Instead this chapter, and the entire reason Lucifer is in this story to begin with, was inspired by [this video of Mark Pellegrino singing Sweet Transvestite at Vancon 2012.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ye8MNLzbQw)
> 
> I picked the songs that Dean sings via a facebook poll of my friends, and these 2 songs won out. I case you've never heard them before, they're ["I Got You Babe" by Sonny and Cher, ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BERd61bDY7k) and ["Paradise by the Dashboard Light" by Meat Loaf.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C11MzbEcHlw)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for discussions of bullying and physical abuse.

So, Dean had royally fucked things up.

Well, there was only one thing to do now. Try to move on and put all this shit behind him.

The next day he’d plastered on a fake smile, thanked Lisa profusely for switching their schedule so he could spend the day in Olathe, and took Ben out for some father-son bonding. And if pizza and a double feature at the movie theater had the added benefit of distracting Dean from the shitstorm of the night before, well, that was just a coincidence.

The next few days were a blur of working on a new kitchen cabinet installation during the day and helping Ben with his homework at night. And the evenings that Ben wasn’t there? Well, lumber, power tools, and AC/DC on full blast were also a pretty great distraction.

At night, however? When Dean was lying in bed, alone? It was pretty fucking hard to avoid going over every single detail.

That plan of moving on and forgetting didn’t work out so well.

That first night, immediately after Cas had walked away, leaving Dean in the parking lot alone and rejected, Dean had tried calling. Cas didn’t answer, not surprisingly, and Dean couldn’t bring himself to leave any voicemails. He was never good with words, and, let’s face it, talking to those voicemail things was always awkward anyway. He’d probably just fuck things up even more.

Instead, he’d left a string of text messages, one every night.

**Saturday, 11:54 pm: Cas, are you okay? Please call me.**

**Sunday, 10:08 pm: Cas, I’m sorry.**

**Monday, 9:37 pm: Cas, please, just talk to me.**

**Tuesday, 10:41 pm: I hate not knowing how you’re doing. Can you please just call me or text me back?**

**Wednesday, 11:05 pm: Maybe you could send me a letter, huh?**

After five nights in a row of being ignored, though, it was pretty clear that Dean begging via text wasn’t helping. The next night, then, he switched gears. Maybe if Cas knew Dean was at least thinking about him… well, it was stupid, but it was all he could think of.

**Thursday, 10:02 pm: I hate watching Dr. Sexy alone now. I can’t make fun of that weird ghost-doctor thing without you here.**

**Friday, 9:43 pm: I’m taking Ben to Worlds of Fun tomorrow on the gift card you got me for my birthday. Still one of the best birthdays ever.**

**Saturday, 10:29 pm: Everything today reminded me of you.**

**Sunday, 8:55 pm: Went to Sammy’s to grill out tonight. Blake kept asking about you. Now she’s begging Sarah for a blue dress like yours.**

**Monday, 10:44 pm: Star Wars was on tonight. Reminded me of that time we watched it at your house right before Christmas. I always think of that night as the night I met my best friend.**

**Tuesday, 10:10 pm: Heard someone at Starbucks quote The Princess Bride today and thought of you. p.s. never get involved in a land war in Asia.**

**Wednesday, 9:59 pm: Started planing and sanding the boards from your tree today. Don’t know what they’re gonna be yet, but I got some ideas. Can’t wait for you to see it when it’s done.**

**Thursday, 11:41 pm: My bedroom walls are the color of your eyes, did you know that? I’m sleeping on the sofa now.**

**Friday, 11:20 pm: It was all real, Cas. I hope you know that. I meant what I said, every word.**

**Saturday, 11:28 pm: I hope you can forgive me one day for fucking everything up.**

No response whatsoever.

Sunday evening after dinner, while Ben was finishing up his homework Dean broke down and called Gabe.

“Hello?” Gabe answered.

“Hey, Gabe. It’s, uh, it’s Dean.” Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“Dean-O! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Dean hesitated. “It’s, uh, it’s about Cas. Have you talked to him lately?”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“We, uh…” How was he supposed to explain this? “We had a fight. He won’t talk to me.”

“Sorry, kid, but that sounds like something you two need to work out between yourselves.”

“I know, I know, I just… I wanna make sure he’s okay.” Dean hated the fact that Cas was probably never gonna talk to him again, but if that’s the way Cas wanted it, Dean would go along with it. All he really wanted, in the end, was to make sure Cas was happy. “If he won’t talk to me, maybe he’ll talk to you.”

“I don’t know, Dean.” Gabe sighed through the phone. “I’ve actually tried calling him, and he won’t talk to me either. What’s going on with you two? Did something happen after the race?”

“Yeah, something happened. And I’m just really worried about him. Can you check on him, make sure he’s okay?” Dean fought to keep his voice steady. “Look, I’m not asking you to beg him to come talk to me or anything. I just wanna make sure he’s okay.”

“Fine, but I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for him, because I’m actually worried about him too.”

“That’s all I want. Just, please Gabe, make sure he’s okay.”

“You got it, Dean-O.”

Dean hung up with a sigh and sent one last text message to Cas.

**Sunday, 10:02: I miss you.**

 

* * *

 

Cas really did not want any goddamn company.

Whoever was at the door apparently didn’t get the memo, however, and wouldn’t stop that damn banging.

After two solid minutes of being ignored, the visitor then decided to go an alternate route and ring the doorbell repeatedly. Cas only relented because he only knew one person who would be that annoying, and it wasn’t the person he was currently avoiding.

No, scratch that. Not avoiding. Never speaking to again. That’s what Cas was doing.

He padded to the door and reluctantly opened it.

“What do you want, Gabe?” he grumbled.

“What?” Gabe replied, his face the picture of innocence. “Now I need a reason to come visit my baby brother?”

“Fine,” Cas huffed. “Just say what you came to say and get out.”

“You act like I have some ulterior motive here. Can’t a guy just want to come visit his brother, of whom he is so very proud?”

“Guy? Yes. You? No.” Cas stepped aside and let his brother in, against his better judgment. “Gabe, come on. Just say it and leave me alone.”

“Seriously, Cas.” Gabe took a seat on the sofa. “You’ve been MIA since race day. We’re worried about you.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Cas was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

“You know, me, and Kali, and Anna.” Gabe avoided Cas’ gaze, running the back of his neck. “And maybe Dean, too.”

“You’ve spoken with Dean?” Cas hated that he was curious, because he really didn’t want to be, but here was a prime opportunity to find out what was going through Dean’s mind without having to, you know, actually talk to the guy. He knew Dean had been calling and texting him, but he’d steadfastly refused to read any of the messages.

Because he wasn’t speaking to Dean ever again.

“Yes, I have,” Gabe confirmed. “Look, I don’t know what happened with you two that you’re suddenly fighting, but he’s worried about you. Maybe you should call him and tell him you’re alright.”

“Maybe you should butt out, because it’s none of your business.”

“Okay, that’s it. Look, I’m worried about you, okay? But I also came here as a favor to Dean, because he’s your friend, and despite your history, I think he’s actually an okay guy and he just wants what’s best for you. Whatever this is going on between you two? It’s clearly killing both of you. So spill.”

“I’m not in the mood for this, Gabe. If I wanted to talk about it I would’ve called you, but as you can see I did not.” Cas stalked off toward his bedroom. “You can show yourself out, can’t you?”

He slammed the bedroom door shut and threw himself down on the bed, burrowing under the covers in the position he’d previously occupied before being so rudely interrupted.

Cas wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t want to talk about it. He’d been going over every tiny detail of the previous events every minute of every day for the last two weeks, and he just couldn’t do it anymore. It hadn’t helped.

He knew Balthazar leaving him had screwed him up, for a long time. Then after months of feeling worthless this great guy came along; finally, someone hot and sexy and intelligent and fascinating showed an interest in him.

Then Dean had to show up, with his bullshit declarations of love, and screw everything up.

Cas tried for days to contact Lucifer, but his calls and text messages all went unreturned. He stopped by the store, only to be told that “Lucifer was taking some time off.” He stopped by Lucifer’s house, largely expecting to find it empty.

There were two cars in the driveway. Behind Lucifer’s Porsche was a convertible with two bumper stickers, a rainbow-colored one reading “I brake for hot guys” and another that stated “I love balls in my face.”

Needless to say, Lucifer never answered the door.

That’s when Cas crossed the line from furious to depressed. So now, not only was Cas not worth saying goodbye to, he was also apparently pretty fucking easy to get over.

Gabe gingerly opened the bedroom door, two steaming hot mugs in hand. “I brought you your favorite, Pooh. Earl Grey with milk and sugar.”

Gabe hadn’t called him Pooh since he was probably seven years old.

Not even after Balthazar left. He must really be worried.

The tears Cas had refused to shed at last spilled over. “Lucifer broke up with me. The night of the marathon. He stormed off, and he won’t return my calls. I think he’s already seeing someone else.”

“Jesus, Cas.” Gabe set the mug down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, running his hands through Cas’ hair as soothingly as he could manage. “I’m really sorry.”

“What’s wrong with me, Gabe? What is so fundamentally unlovable about me that makes everyone leave?”

“You’re not…” Gabe sighed. “You’re not unlovable, Cas. Those guys were just ignorant, stupid, blind, just fucking _assholes_ if they couldn’t see what a wonderful guy you are.”

Cas rolled his eyes. He knew a placating lie when he heard one. “Come on, Gabe.”

“No, I’m serious. You have all these people around you who love you and care about you and worry about you.” Gabe handed Cas his tea. “Now why don’t you tell me what happened, and I’ll see what I can do about making it better, okay?”

Cas knew Gabe couldn’t make any of this better. It was a huge fucking mess, and Cas couldn’t see any way out. He drank half his mug of tea and lay back down before he felt okay enough to speak.

“The night after the marathon, Lucifer and I went to the Beehive. We met some of the others from the group, you know, to celebrate. Dean was there. He told me he was in love with me and, and… he kissed me. Lucifer caught us and stormed off.”

Gabe sat in silence for a few moments, letting Cas’ confession sink in. Then finally, he huffed out a laugh. “Well, fuck. That makes so much sense now.”

Okay, not quite the reaction Cas was hoping for. “What makes sense?”

“Dean being in love with you. It all makes sense now. The way he planned out every detail of where we were gonna meet you on the course, worried sick about you the whole time, hell, just the friggin’ hearts in his eyes every time you came around. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. Dean’s in love with you.”

“No, Gabe, he isn’t. It was all just some kind of joke. He doesn’t love me.” Cas could feel Gabe’s eyes boring intently into the side of his face. “Stop it. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Did he say that to you?”

Cas just lay there, the tears silently spilling down his face. “He didn’t have to,” he finally whispered.

“Cas,” Gabe sighed. “I know I don’t know Dean very well, but he doesn’t seem like the type of guy who would do something like that. Not anymore, anyway. In high school, I would’ve said, yeah, he was just trying to make you miserable or something. But now? I don’t know, I only spent a few hours with him, but I gotta say. I really think he’d changed. If he said he was in love with you, I bet he’s telling the truth.”

No, he wasn’t. Dean was just jealous, or he hated Lucifer and wanted to split them up or something.

“It took me six months to get up the courage to tell Kali I loved her,” Gabe continued. “Did I ever tell you that? Six months we’d been dating, and I wanted to say it so many times, but I was scared she’d laugh at me, or tell me she didn’t love me back, or tell me we were just supposed to be casual or whatever. I was scared to death. I’d never felt that way about anybody, you know? But I finally realized that I’d rather she know how I felt than not know, even if I lost her.”

Gabe sighed, combing his fingers through Cas’ hair, the way he did when they were kids and Cas would wake up crying from a bad dream. “My point is, saying you love somebody, it’s a big fucking deal. It’s not the kind of thing you lie or joke about.”

No. Gabe was wrong.

He had to be, because if Dean was telling the truth that would mean that Cas just screwed everything up. So Dean definitely had to be lying.

“I think you need to talk to Dean. Look, at the very least, the guy’s your best friend, right? Give him the benefit of the doubt, just this once. I think you might be surprised.”

Yeah, that was easier said than done.

Gabe seemed to sense that Cas was done talking for the time being. He pulled the covers up to his brother’s chin and removed the empty mugs from the nightstand. On his way out he stopped at the doorway. “Look, just think about it, okay? Promise me?”

Cas just nodded. He’d think about it, but he definitely wouldn’t change his mind.

He and Dean were every bit as over as he and Lucifer apparently were.

 

* * *

 

Monday evening, halfway through dinner, Ben got his serious face on.

“Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah, buddy?” Dean picked up the bowl of mashed potatoes and scooped out a second helping, wondering what Ben was about to confess to. _Please, just don’t let it involve another parent-teacher conference._

“Is something wrong?” Ben asked. “It’s just that, you seem kinda sad.”

Shit. Dean thought he’d been hiding it pretty well, at least in front of his son. He plastered on his best fake smile. “Nope. Everything’s great. You?”

Ben wasn’t fooled. “If something’s making you sad, then maybe you should talk about it, right? ‘Cause when I’m sad, you always make me talk about it, and it always makes me feel better, even if I’m mad at you for making me talk about it.”

Dean set his fork down with a sigh. Fuck, how could he say no to that? “Okay, yeah. I guess I am. You know my friend Cas? Well, I, uh, I did something, and I think he’s mad at me. He won’t talk to me. And that makes me a little sad.”

“Did you tell him you’re sorry?”

“Yeah, I tried. But he won’t listen to me. He won’t answer when I call him, and he won’t respond to any of my texts.” Dean laid his elbows on the table and rubbed his hands across his face. He had to keep it together, because there was no way in hell Dean was gonna lose it in front of his son. “Honestly, I don’t know what to do.”

Ben went back to eating his dinner, his brow pulled together in thought. “Maybe you could go to his house. He’d have to listen to you then, right?”

“Nah, he probably just wouldn’t answer the door. Or worse, he would, then he’d slam it in my face when he saw it was me.”

“What if you try waiting for him while he’s at work? Like, remember that one time I got in a fight at school and you were waiting for me in my room when I got home? I had to talk to you, ‘cause you were in my room, right?” Ben was actually getting excited about his plan now. “So, if you wait for him while he’s at work, like at his front door or something, then he’d have to listen to you when he got home, right? At least enough for you to say you’re sorry. It could work, right?”

“I don’t know, buddy. I don’t like the idea of, just, confronting him like that. Doesn’t seem like a very nice way to apologize to somebody.”

“Yeah, but you’ve already tried the regular way. And if he’s not listening to you when you say you’re sorry, then he’s not being very nice either. I just think, if you really wanna stay friends with somebody, you gotta try everything, right? Don’t you think it’s worth a try?”

Dean just wasn’t sure.

It just felt… wrong, somehow, like he’d be going against Cas’ wishes.

But what about Dean’s wishes? Didn’t he get a say in all this?

Okay, maybe Ben had a point. Dean had apologized, over and over and over again, and Cas just resolutely ignored him.

That _wasn’t_ very nice, was it?

And now Dean was taking relationship advice from a 10-year-old.

 

* * *

 

Fucking finally. The last official day of exams was over.

Cas had stayed up past midnight the past two nights grading as many exams as he could since the school, in its infinite wisdom, decreed that all grades had to be handed in by 4 p.m. on Friday, a mere 4 hours after the last final exam let out.

One last mad rush to grade his seventh period Government exams on Friday afternoon, and Cas left Garrison Academy exhausted but looking forward to a nice, relaxing, test-grading-free weekend. He stopped by the library on the way home to pick out a new novel to read, got some takeout sushi from the market, and bought a bottle of Gewürztraminer from the liquor store around the corner. As soon as he could ditch the business casual wear and don his sweats, Cas’ me-time weekend could commence.

_And I may just stay in my sweats all weekend. Showering is highly over-rated, after all._

The uninvited guest sitting on his porch shot that plan all to hell.

“Go away, Dean,” Cas grumbled.

“Cas, please, just let me talk to you.”

“No, Dean. I think you’ve done enough. Now please leave.”

“Cas, goddammit, I’m trying to apologize here! The least you could do is stand there and listen for ten goddamn seconds! I mean, we’re supposed to be friends, right?”

That did it. The torrent of emotions that had been churning through his head the past two weeks, that Cas had tried his damndest to bury so he could get through final exams, came rushing to the surface with a furious boil. Cas threw his bags down on the porch and turned on Dean, his eyes full of rage. “Friends? Are you fucking kidding me? Friends don’t do that, Dean. Friends don’t deliberately try to break up each other’s relationships. Lucifer was the best thing to happen to me, in a long fucking time, and you just drove him off.”

“Cas, that’s not true and you know it.” Dean’s voice was calm and collected, and it pissed Cas off even more. “Lucifer was not the best thing to happen to you. He was a complete dickhead who continually ignored you and toyed with you.”

“Oh my God, Dean. I knew you hated him, but really?”

“Yes, Cas, really. Lucifer never appreciated you or deserved you, and he never will, no matter how you try to spin this.”

“No, Dean. Lucifer was a decent man. What he didn’t deserve was to go off thinking that he was dating some lying, cheating scumbag. Jesus, I bet you set that up on purpose, didn’t you? You knew he was about to walk outside, and you just couldn’t stand the fact that I was finally spending time with someone who wasn’t you.”

“No, Cas, that’s not what…”

“And you just grabbed me, with this phony bullshit about falling in love with me, and I fell for it hook, line and sinker. Jesus, I’m such an idiot. To think that you…” Cas trailed off and took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’m such an idiot.”

“No you’re not, Cas. Don’t say that. You…” Dean stopped, taking a calming breath before continuing. “Look, I’m in love with you. This isn’t phony, and it isn’t bullshit. This is just me, and I know I’m not much, and I know I don’t deserve you, I never will. I know I screwed up and went about this completely bass-ackwards, but I’m trying here. I’m asking for a chance, Cas. Please, just give me a chance.”

“You had plenty of chances, Dean. You’ve had five months worth of chances. And I’m supposed to believe that that particular night, of all nights, when I was finally ready to…” Cas stopped. It was none of Dean’s business.

“Ready to what, Cas? Have sex with him? You’ve been dating him since February, for Chrissakes. Don’t you think there’s some reason why you’ve been holding back all this time?”

“Oh my God, are you fucking kidding me? Of course there’s a reason! _Balthazar broke my fucking heart!_ The only man I’ve ever loved in my _entire life_ walked out on me without _one goddamn word_. You think that’s something you get over right away?”

Dean startled a bit at that, Cas’ words cutting right through to the core. He took a step back, his voice softening when he spoke again. “Jesus, I’m sorry, Cas. You’re right. That’s not something you get over. Fuck, me and Lisa split fourteen months ago, and I haven’t even come close to having sex with someone else. But you have to believe me, I wasn’t deliberately trying to sabotage your relationship with Lucifer. I had no idea he was gonna come out. And I wasn’t lying, not about any of it.”

Cas just rolled his eyes. “Well, forgive me if I don’t believe you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have plans.” He bent over to pick up his abandoned items. His sushi was probably all squashed by now. Fucking perfect.

“Cas, please. Look, I didn’t come here to fight with you. I’m trying to apologize here.” He reached down to still Cas’ hands from reloading his grocery bags. “Cas, just talk to me.”

Feeling Dean’s hands on his own just lit Cas’ anger ablaze all over again. “You want to talk? Fine!” Cas threw his sushi across the porch. He wasn’t hungry anymore anyway. “If you won’t admit to sabotage then why don’t you tell me about this _uncanny_ occurrence where you just _happened_ to develop homosexual feelings for someone for the first time in your life, just as that someone is starting to get serious with his boyfriend? Hm? Doesn’t that seem like the slightest bit suspicious to you?”

“That’s not… I didn’t… Dammit, Cas!” Dean turned and sat down on the bench which Cas just now noticed was there, and buried his face in his hands.

Wait, did Dean build that bench? As some kind of peace offering? Well, it wasn’t going to work.

Thick and chunky, a little lower to the ground, and stained a perfect match to the wood grain inside Cas’ house, it was just the kind of thing that Cas would have picked out himself.

It was beautiful in its simplicity. Simple, unassuming. Just like Dean.

The thought came unbidden, and Cas resolutely ignored it.

Dean rubbed his hands across his face and looked up. He was actually tearing up. “You really, honestly think that, don’t you? That I would _honestly_ lie about falling in love with you? That just because I was married to a woman that there’s no possible way I could love you too?”

Cas sat down on the bench opposite Dean. None of this made any sense. He just wanted Dean to make sense of all this. He rubbed hand along the grain of the wood. “Did you make this?” he murmured.

“Yeah. From your tree. It’s, uh,” Dean stopped and cleared his throat. “It’s for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I did. It was sort of yours anyway, since the wood came from your yard, so.” Dean shrugged. “Look, can I tell you something? You don’t have to say anything, just listen, and then I’ll go, okay?”

Cas took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever was coming. He was tired of all this, and if listening to Dean talk for a minute was what it took to end it, then fine. “Sure.”

“I’ve never told anyone this. Not even Sammy knows, or Ellen. And they were both there.” Dean got up from the bench and walked over to the porch steps. “Sorry, I just don’t know if I can look at you while I say this.”

Dean sat down on the top step. He stared at his hands silently for several minutes before finally clearing his throat and speaking. “You remember when I had that accident in high school? When I told everyone I wrecked my friend’s motorcycle?”

Cas nodded. “I remember.”

“Well, it wasn’t a motorcycle accident.”

Dean was quiet a long time. Whether he was trying to find the right words, or just waiting for some encouragement to continue, Cas couldn’t tell.

“You know, I still remember what you wore the first day of high school?” Dean smiled at the memory. “Yeah, I saw you across the cafeteria as you were walking in before school started. You had on that stupid sock monkey cap and a t-shirt that had the Alderaan 5-day forecast, you know, with, like 20,000 degrees on day 3 and the last 2 days are blank. I couldn’t decide if you were the coolest person there, because of the t-shirt, or the dorkiest person, because of that cap. I used to watch you every day after that, you and your friends, just trying to figure you out.

“It was pretty obvious that everyone knew you were gay. But, no one seemed to care, right? No one gave a damn that you liked guys.” Dean inhaled a shaky breath before continuing. “Anyway, it was around the end of sophomore year, I finally decided that if no one cared about you being with a guy, then maybe no one would care about me either.”

Cas’ eyes widened in shock. Was Dean saying…

“There was this guy, Matt. He lived down the street. I’d seen him around before, and he seemed pretty nice. Then one day out of the blue, I was outside changing the oil in the Impala, he came up to me and said hi. The way he smiled at me, I’d never had anyone look at me like that, you know? But I was scared. You know, scared of my dad, scared of my friends, hell, scared of Matt; I had no idea what I was doing, you know? What if I was wrong about him and I screwed things up? But then I thought about you, and how you never cared what other people thought, and I decided, what the hell? Why should I miss out on being with this guy that I like, just because I’m scared a few people are gonna make fun of me?

“We were at his house watching a movie one night and I just leaned over and kissed him. It was, just, amazing. We ended up dating that whole summer. He was my first, you know, long-term thing. I’d dated girls before, but he was the first person I’d ever been out with more than once.”

Dean was silent a moment as his smile began to fade. He folded his hands between his knees and looked down, silently staring at the concrete step underneath him. “Anyway, after school started back in the fall, we didn’t get to see each other much. Then there was this one night, Dad was working late at some new job and Sammy was at his friend’s house studying so we had the house to ourselves for a few hours. We were on my bed, just kissing, you know, nothing serious, and my dad walked in.”

Dean stopped and rubbed the back of his neck. “He came home early, because he’d gotten fired, and he’d spent the rest of the day at the bar getting plastered. When he saw me and Matt, he flipped his shit. Threw Matt out of the house. I never saw him again.”

Wow. This was… was it huge? Cas wasn’t sure. He didn’t quite know what to think, about any of it. Could Dean really be serious? He’d actually dated a guy? Cas could spend the rest of the year trying to process this and it still probably wouldn’t make any sense. “So, what happened?”

“My dad.” Dean said it so quietly Cas wasn’t quite sure he’d even heard it correctly. “After he threw Matt out, he just laid into me. After the first couple of punches, I just kinda zoned out. I didn’t even realize how much he’d hit me, really, until I landed on the nightstand. That’s how I broke my arm, actually, when the thing shattered. This scar over my eye is from his Marines ring.”

_That scar._

_Jesus. Fucking. Christ._

Cas could still remember clearly when Dean walked into school that next day, one eye purple-black with a bandage covering the stitches above the eyebrow, left arm in a cast, bragging to everyone how he’d ridden his buddy’s motorcycle, swerved to avoid hitting a dog, and crashed into a tree. He’d almost seemed proud, wearing his bruises and broken bones like a badge of honor, while that whole time he had been covering up some serious emotional trauma.

Dean fingered the scar, his mind somewhere between the past and the present. He shook his head and folded his hands between his knees again. “Anyway, Sammy came home from studying and pulled Dad off me. Took me next door to Ellen’s house. She took me to the ER got me patched up, let me and Sammy spend the night. She never asked me what happened. Neither did Sam. I never could decide whether they knew I didn’t want to talk about it, or if they thought whatever it was, was my fault.”

Dean shook his head. “Either way, I wouldn’t have told her. Or Sam.”

Cas got up from his seat on the bench, walked over toward the steps, and sat down next to Dean. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if there was anything _to_ say.

Dean continued. “Sam and I finally went home after school the next day. Dad was there, sitting on his chair in the living room, empty bottle of Wild Turkey on the floor. As soon as Sam was out of earshot he told me, ‘Don’t ever let me catch you doing any of that faggy shit ever again.’” Dean sniffed. “He broke my fucking arm, and that’s all he ever said to me about it.”

“Dean, I’m so…”

“Don’t do that. Just don’t.” Dean shook his head. “Don’t ever feel sorry for me. ‘Cause you know what I did with all of that? Huh? I took it all out on you. Because in my sixteen-year-old, fucked-up brain, it was all your fault. Because you were the one that made me think it was okay to be with a guy in the first place.”

Cas’ mind flashed to the letter, that damn letter than Dean had sent him back in December. He hadn’t thought about Dean’s words in months, but now something jumped to the forefront of his mind, something he had wondered about which hadn’t made sense until now.

_I was just a dumb kid, and I was going through some stuff of my own, and I took it out on you, and I’m sorry._

All those months ago, Cas had decided to forgive Dean and forget what happened. He had taken all the terrible things Dean had said and done back in high school and closed them off in neat little boxes in the back of his mind, buried as relics of the past that no longer held any meaning as to the man Dean was today. But now, after Dean’s revelations, the boxes were burst open in his mind, the memories spilling out everywhere. Everything he thought he knew about high school Dean now had to be re-filed under this new context.

He and Dean were both silent for a long time, Cas mentally going over everything he’d remembered Dean say and do back then. He had no idea where he and Dean even stood anymore; that would probably take some time to sort out.

“You know, I really loved Lisa,” Dean spoke at last. “I did. I wasn’t trying to hide my true feelings or whatever. I loved her, and I would’ve spent the rest of my life with her, if she’d let me. But I lost her, and I don’t even really know what I did. Pushed her away, I guess. I lost Matt, then I lost her. The only two people I ever really loved.”

Cas saw a tear spill out of Dean’s eye and fall slowly down the side of his face. Part of him wanted to reach over and wipe it away.

“Well, three,” Dean added.

“What?” Cas was confused.

“Three people. Matt, Lisa, and now you.” Dean turned and faced Cas. “Cas, I wasn’t lying, or trying to sabotage you or anything like that. Everything I said, it was all real. I wish there was something I could say or do to make you believe me, but I understand if you don’t. I just want you to be happy.”

Dean rubbed his hands across his face one last time and stood up. “It’s all I ever wanted, Cas. Just, take care of yourself, okay?”

Then Dean walked to his truck, parked across the street, and drove off, leaving Cas sitting on the front porch steps, alone.

 

* * *

 

The sofa really wasn’t getting any more comfortable.

That decided it, first thing tomorrow morning, he was going to Home Depot to buy paint. Any color, as long as it wasn’t blue. He couldn’t avoid his bedroom any longer. He needed some damn sleep.

Dean cocked his head, straining to hear. Was that a knock at the door? He could’ve been mistaken. He probably was mistaken. After all, who would be visiting just after midnight? At least, Dean thought it was past midnight. He refused to look at the clock, because that just made it worse.

There it was again.

Dean rolled off the sofa and shuffled to the door. He peered through the peephole.

It was Cas.

Dean unlocked the chain, the deadbolt, and the doorknob lock, and opened the door. Cas looked like he had been crying. “Cas, are you…”

“I read your text messages.”

Dean just stood there, like the dumb idiot he was, not knowing what to say. Should he invite Cas inside, so they could talk this over some more? He really didn’t think he had anything more in him that he could say.

Cas decided no words were necessary, though, as he stepped across the threshold, wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, and kissed him.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've waited paitiently for 20 chapters, and I love each and every one of you for it. Now - Let the Destiel begin!
> 
> Some quoting of Misha's twitter.

Dean’s brain was definitely a bit slow to catch on to what was happening.

His lips caught on, perhaps out of some sense memory of the kiss he and Cas had shared just a few weeks ago, and moved a tiny bit against Cas’ own to reciprocate ever so briefly. But there was too much confusion swirling through Dean’s mind, too many questions for any single one to even form in its entirety; it was just a jumble of words, of _Cas?_ and _Why?_ and _How?_

Finally as Cas’ tongue ventured out to lick along the seam of his lips, Dean’s body and brain finally came together. Dean pulled away and placed his hands on Cas’ shoulders as he stepped back. “Cas? What’s going on?”

Cas cocked his head to the side and smiled fondly in a gesture that Dean would have found completely adorable if he weren’t so damn confused. “I kissed you. And I’d like to do it again, if that’s okay with you.”

“But… Why?” Dean had fucked everything up. There had been fighting, yelling, heated words and broken confessions. The most he had hoped to come out of all that was for Cas to forgive him some day in the distant future. Like maybe one day he’d see Cas across the aisle at Home Depot again and he’d smile and wave, and Cas would smile tentatively and wave back and they’d go their separate ways, or something like that.

That’s what was supposed to happen. Because Dean was a fuck-up. Not Cas coming over and kissing him. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

But Cas just took Dean’s face in his hands and, cutting through all the confusion and hurt and distrust that had to be evident on Dean’s face, replied simply, “Because I’m in love with you too.”

Cas’ eyes never left Dean’s, not as Dean rolled those words over in his mind, not as Dean rewound and replayed everything that came before – the argument on Cas’ porch, Cas knocking on Dean’s door, announcing that he’d read Dean’s stupid text messages, Cas grabbing him and kissing him. Cas just kept his eyes locked on Dean’s, those beautiful, ocean-blue eyes, filled with infinite patience and understanding, filled with warmth and admiration, with honesty and passion and love.

It was there. Dean could see it. Cas loved him.

Cas was in _love_ with him.

The moment it finally registered Dean grabbed Cas in his arms, pulled him flush to his own body, and collided their mouths together once more. It was awkward, all crashing teeth and flailing limbs, and it was, God _damn_ , hands down the hottest fucking kiss of Dean’s life.

He had dreamed about this moment so many times over the past months; hell he had even gotten a taste of it just a few weeks before in the parking lot of that bar, but nothing, absolutely nothing could compare to this moment. Cas, this wonderful, amazing man in his arms had somehow miraculously accepted his confession and his apology, decided to look past all of his faults and fuck-ups, and give this a shot.

Dean wound his arms around Cas’ waist and pulled him closer as he tried his damndest to slow the pace down. Now that he had this, he was gonna make it last, make this good for Cas. He parted his lips once more and stroked Cas’ tongue with his own, languid and unhurried. Cas reciprocated by pulling his hands away from where they were cradling Dean’s face and wrapped them around Dean’s back. He ever-so-gently scraped his nails along Dean’s muscles as his tongue licked along the roof of Dean’s mouth, sending shivers down Dean’s spine and reminding Dean that he was basically naked standing there in just his boxers while Cas had way too many friggin’ clothes on.

Dean pulled off Cas’ jacket and tossed it aside, never breaking the kiss, as Cas began to walk the two of them forward. Dean was only vaguely aware that he was moving until the back of his legs hit the sofa and he tumbled backwards, pulling Cas on top of him and, sweet Jesus, that felt good, having Cas’ weight on top of him. Almost too good. He pulled his mouth away from Cas’ for a moment and just breathed, trying to calm his heart from beating out of his chest.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” Dean murmured.

Cas peppered Dean’s jaw with kisses, working his way down Dean’s neck to his collarbone. “I’ve been to your house before, dumbass,” he murmured in return.

Dean huffed out a laugh. “You know what I mean.” He pulled Cas’ face away from where it was attached to his neck and cradled it in his hands, looking Cas in the eye. “I can’t believe you’re here, with me, like this.”

“Believe it.” Cas gave Dean a soft kiss on the lips and began to work his way down once more. “I’m here,” _kiss_ , “and I’m not going anywhere,” _kiss_ , “if that’s okay with you,” he replied softly as he began to thrust his pelvis very slowly and deliberately against Dean’s.

“Fuck,” Dean moaned in reply as he worked his way underneath Cas’ shirt and clutched onto Cas’ shoulders, riding the waves of pleasure that Cas was building. “Yeah. That’s okay. That’s – _fuck_ – that’s more than okay. You can, you can stay as long as you like.”

Cas chuckled darkly against Dean’s neck. “Good.” He began kissing his way down Dean’s chest and latched onto Dean’s nipple, earning another string of expletives from Dean’s mouth. “And I hope you have your calendar free tomorrow, because I’ve got plans for you.”

As Cas slowly began to slide down Dean’s torso toward his achingly hard cock, two thoughts almost simultaneously jumped to the forefront of Dean’s mind. “Holy shit, Cas is about to blow me” was followed closely by “Holy shit, tomorrow’s Saturday.”

“Cas,” Dean implored. “Wait. Stop.”

“What is it?” Cas raised up and cocked his head up at Dean questioningly, hearing the sudden change in Dean’s tone of voice.

Cas looked so thoroughly, deliciously debauched that Dean couldn’t believe he was about to say what he was about to say. “Cas, I can’t.”

The look of sheer despair on Cas’ face was enough to break Dean’s heart. “Are… do you…”

“No! Not like that. No, I mean, tomorrow’s Saturday. I gotta pick up Ben.” He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. He hated this, but he had to put the brakes on. “I can’t do this, not with Ben coming over.”

Cas shot Dean an exasperated look. “Do you think he’s gonna walk in here any minute and catch you with your cock in my mouth?”

Dean sniffed out a laugh and tried to ignore that mental image, because that was not gonna help in slowing things down here. “No, but.” He caressed his hand along the side of Cas’ face and threaded his fingers through the fine hairs there along Cas’ temple. “I don’t wanna have some quickie here on the sofa and then have to say goodbye to you for three days. I wanna do this right.”

Cas’ face softened into a smile as he turned to place a kiss on Dean’s palm. “You’re a good man, Dean Winchester. You know that?” He raised up off the sofa so Dean could pull his legs out from underneath, and sat down.

Dean rolled up and sat down next to Cas, putting a little distance between them. “I’m not so sure about that.” He was still achingly hard, his cock tenting his boxers obscenely, and if he sat any closer to Cas right now he was sure his resolve would crumble. But he had to do this. Cas deserved better than some morning-after shove out the door.

Cas leaned over and gave Dean a peck on the cheek. “I am.” He stood up and made his way across the living room to pick up his jacket.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Dean was a little taken aback. Sure, he had put the brakes on the fun stuff for the night, but Cas didn’t have to leave, did he? He just got here.

“It’s late. I should get home and get to bed.” He pulled his jacket on and gave Dean one last chaste kiss on the lips. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe I could come over Tuesday night?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded vaguely as Cas turned to leave. _Wait, what the fuck are you doing? Cas is at the door!_ He reached out and grabbed Cas’ wrist and pulled his back. “Cas, wait. Don’t go.”

“Dean, it’s late. We should probably both just get some sleep.”

Dean stepped closer and pulled Cas loosely into his arms. “Please stay. Here. With me. _Just_ to sleep.”

Cas placed his hands on Dean’s hips, teasing the skin along the waistband of Dean’s boxers. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“No, but I don’t want to say goodbye to you yet.” He tilted his head up to place a chaste kiss on Cas’ forehead and whispered, “Please stay.”

Cas sighed and leaned his forehead against Dean’s. “Okay.”

Dean grabbed his pillow and blanket from where they had fallen off the sofa and reached out to take Cas’ hand, leading them towards the stairs to his bedroom. He hadn’t slept there much in the past couple of weeks, not since Cas had quit speaking to him; the rich cobalt color on the walls and the huge empty bed just reminded him of how much he missed Cas.

Now, as he and Cas stepped closer and closer to the bedroom, Dean became increasingly aware of just how huge this moment was. He hadn’t had another person in his bed for almost a year and a half. Even if he and Cas were just going to sleep, it was still pretty intimate. Sure, they had just had a pretty heavy makeout session and had been moments away from taking it further, but Dean knew once he took Cas into his bedroom, that was it. Their relationship would change forever.

“Dean? You okay?” Cas rubbed his thumb along the side of Dean’s hand in a small gesture that was just the perfect amount of soothing.

Dean turned back and looked at Cas, this vibrant, passionate, wonderful man, and he knew. “Yeah. I’m okay,” he smiled.

He opened the door and flipped on the light, tossing his pillow and blanket onto the bed. Cas gasped as he took in the surroundings. “Dean, this is… you built all of this?”

Oh. Had he really not shown Cas any of his new furniture? “Yeah. Got rid of the old stuff. You know, time for a change and all.”

Cas ran his fingers along the dresser, taking in the details carved into the drawer fronts. He walked over and inspected the new platform bed, the headboard of which ran the length of the entire wall and had shelves inset, with platforms on either side for nightstands. “This is amazing.” He turned toward Dean and pulled him in for a kiss. “You’re amazing.”

Dean felt his face flush under the warmth of Cas’ compliments. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he declared as he and Cas pulled apart.

He let his gaze linger on the man in front of him, this beautiful man, his best friend, and now, by either some miracle or some colossal mistake by The Powers That Be, his love. Cas just stood there, gazing back and smiling like an idiot.

“Okay, what? Why’re you smiling at me like that?” Dean finally had to ask.

“Because I can’t believe I get to do this now.”

Was this conversation about to venture into porn territory? ‘Cause Dean was trying his damndest to stay away from that, at least tonight. “Do what?”

“Kiss you,” Cas replied softly.

Dean’s face softened into a smile. “You’re such a sap,” he declared, pulling said sap into one last quick kiss. That was it, though. He had to draw the line. If he kept on kissing Cas tonight, he may just never stop.

Instead he turned toward the bed and made quick work of replacing the pillows and comforter while Cas stripped down to his boxers. Damn, Cas looked good shirtless. He couldn’t wait to explore every inch of…

_Stop it. Stop right there. You are not going to lay in bed with him sporting a boner._

Dean flipped off the light and climbed into bed facing Cas. He still couldn’t believe it; it was so surreal, after all these months of wading through an ocean of confused feelings, to finally be laying here with Cas. He reached out and touched Cas’ face, feeling the contours of his jaw, pushing a lock of hair back from his forehead. “You really want to be with me?”

“Yes,” Cas murmured. “You really want to be with me?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Good,” Cas whispered in reply. “No take-backs.”

The sound of their laughter echoed through the house as Dean swatted Cas in the face with his pillow.

 

* * *

 

Cas awoke first, and as much as he wanted to spend the morning just lying there and watching Dean sleep, he rolled over and crawled out of bed, throwing on last night’s jeans and t-shirt. If he didn’t get out of there right away he knew he never would, and he wanted to respect Dean’s wishes. He knew Dean was right too; after months of pining, on apparently both their parts, and after a pretty intense argument last night, they should probably take things slowly. There would be time later for lazy lounging in bed kissing and, hopefully, early morning sex.

He padded downstairs and into the kitchen, tiptoeing quietly so as not to wake Dean up, and searched the cabinets until he located the coffee. While he loaded the percolator he couldn’t help but to smile to himself as he remembered reading Dean’s words the previous night, prompting him to fuck all and drive over. Okay, so a string of text messages wasn’t the grandest or most romantic of gestures, but it was so completely open and honest and just so _Dean_. Cas knew as soon as he saw the words “I miss you,” that he felt exactly the same way. He missed Dean too.

Once he was at Dean’s house and in Dean’s arms, whatever doubts that had lingered in the aftermath of their argument vanished. He was sure. It was right. He was home.

Cas grabbed his mug of coffee and sat down at the banquette and gazed out the window to the back yard. The sun was shining in a cloudless sky; Dean and Ben were going to have some gorgeous weather for whatever they had planned this weekend. Cas himself hadn’t really given any thought to the weekend beyond reading his new book to keep his mind off how lonely he was going to be without Dean or Lucifer in his life.

In light of recent events, however, his plan of spending the weekend quietly reading seemed a little past-tense. Maybe he’d give Anna a call and see if Dani and Zach wanted to go to the zoo. The one in Kansas City was their favorite, and definitely doable for a last-minute mini-road trip.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Dean bounding down the stairs. Should he get up and fix Dean a cup of coffee? Greet Dean with a kiss? What if Dean didn’t want a kiss?

Or worse, what if Dean was starting to regret last night and wanted Cas to leave? Being in each other’s arms seemed so right when it happened, but the harsh light of the morning after often brought second thoughts.

Pouring Dean a cup of coffee would be the polite thing to do in the very least, Cas decided, and a pretty neutral action in case he was right about the whole second-thoughts thing. He’d just gotten the mug out of the cabinet when Dean came in to the kitchen. “You’re still here,” Dean proclaimed, a look of confusion crossing his face.

Cas’ heart sank. So here it came. “Did you… Do you want me to leave?”

“No, but, I thought… The bed was empty, and I thought…”

“Did you think I had second thoughts and left without saying ‘goodbye’?” Cas asked tentatively.

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “Something like that.”

And in that moment, it hit Cas like a ton of bricks.

All this time, all these months that he had been spending time with Dean, Cas had thought of Dean as this incredibly strong rock of a person. Dean had been through a rough divorce, worked two jobs to support his son whom he only saw a couple of days a week, and very seldom did he ever show cracks in his armor. Cas was always the one who was fighting constant emotional turmoil, with one ex-boyfriend who left him God-knows-why to move God-knows-where, and one rebound boyfriend who, in retrospect, always made Cas feel like he was saying and doing everything wrong.

But now, standing in the kitchen this man that he had tried so hard not to be in love with that he ran off and dated someone so completely wrong for him so he could pretend his feelings didn’t exist, Cas realized that maybe, just maybe, Dean wasn’t the strong one, and he wasn’t the weak one.

Maybe each of them was a little bit of both.

Cas set Dean’s coffee down on the counter and crossed the room to where Dean was still standing in the doorway. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist and felt Dean tense the slightest little bit. “I wouldn’t do that,” he whispered in Dean’s ear. “I know what that feels like, and I will never do that to you. Okay?”

He kissed Dean on the temple. Dean closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, relaxing in Cas’ arms. “Okay,” he whispered back.

“I’d really like to kiss you now,” Cas murmured as he reached a hand up and caressed the side of Dean’s stubbled jaw. Dean opened his eyes and smiled at Cas, and Cas knew when he saw a hint of that wicked glint in Dean’s eyes that any and all traces of apprehension from earlier had evaporated.

“Are you gonna warn me beforehand every time?” Dean teased, snaking his arms around Cas’ waist and pulling him a little closer. “‘Cause, you know, that might get old after a while.”

“Hey, I know how you hate surprises. That morning I came over to take you to Worlds of Fun I thought you were going to strangle me in the doorway.”

“You woke me up at the ass crack of dawn! You should know better than to bother a man while he’s sleeping.”

Cas nodded. “No waking up Dean Winchester with early morning blowjobs. Got it.”

“Okay, maybe I can make one exception,” Dean smirked as he leaned in and captured Cas’ lips with his own.

Cas let Dean take the lead in the kiss, content just to enjoy the moment and see where Dean was gonna take things. Dean sucked ever so gently on Cas’ lips, one and then the other, before parting them with his tongue, and holy hell, how had Cas gone seven whole hours without doing this? Never in Cas’ life had kissing someone been like this. He clutched tighter around Dean’s shoulders, his heart beating faster, his legs turning to jelly as Dean slowly took him apart one languid stroke of his tongue at a time.

And damn, if this was how much Dean affected him with just kissing, Cas didn’t stand a chance at lasting any length of time once they took things further.

Cas felt Dean’s hand trail down his waist until it reached the curve of his ass. Dean squeezed ever so slightly, pulling Cas in closer, bringing their cocks into delicious contact. Cas was silently grateful that he’d thrown on his jeans before coming downstairs or he would surely have been embarrassingly close to coming right then and there. Ever so slowly Dean’s hand worked its way downward below the curve of his ass, then inward, until Cas felt Dean’s fingers reach just barely between his cheeks. And when Dean’s fingers began to curl inwards…

“Holy fuck,” Cas panted, pushing Dean an arm’s length away. “I think we should stop there, or you’re gonna have to call Lisa and tell her you’re not coming over until next Thursday.”

Dean grinned and shuffled into the kitchen. “Oh, you’re no fun.”

Cas reached for his coffee cup. “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to wait until after this weekend. I’m just trying to keep you an honest man.”

“Well, you got your work cut out for you there,” Dean winked. “So, breakfast?”

“Actually, I was thinking after we finished our coffee, I should probably head home.”

Dean looked up from the rim of his mug, his eyebrows furrowed. “Seriously? Dude, it’s not even 9:00 yet. I don’t have to pick Ben up until after noon. You don’t wanna stay for omelets?”

“Dean, you know as well as I do, after breakfast comes showers, and I’ll end up wearing your clothes, and you’ll end up attacking me because I’ll look hotter in your jeans than you do.”

“Dude, in your dreams. My ass looks hot in my Levis. Don’t think I haven’t caught you looking.” He wiggled his ass for effect as he reached into the cabinet and pulled out a box of Pop Tarts.

Cas couldn’t help but laugh. “Be that as it may, you’re the one who made the rules, not me.”

“Hey, it was one rule! It’s not like I gave you this whole checklist of stuff that had to happen first before I’d sleep with you. I just wanted to wait until after Ben’s back at Lisa’s.”

“So that’s your only criterion for sex with me? That it has to be at least Tuesday?”

“What can I say? I’m a man of few needs,” Dean declared as he bit into a frosted blueberry Pop Tart, crumbs spilling onto his chest.

“And you really think I’m that easy?” Cas teased. “That all you have to do is wait 72 hours and I’ll put out?”

Dean set his Pop Tart down and leaned back on the counter, folding his arms over his chest. “Okay, spit it out. What do you want?”

Cas set his coffee cup down and folded his arms as well. “I want a date,” he insisted.

Dean actually laughed. “What, you want me to pick you up at your house, and bring you flowers and shit?”

Cas had a sudden mental image of Dean Winchester ringing his doorbell with a dozen pink carnations in his hand, hair slicked back with an ill-fitting suit and bowtie that probably hadn’t seen the light of day since prom night, and laughed to himself.

Scratch that. Dean would at least spring for roses.

“No, Dean, I know that’s not you. But it would be nice to go out and have dinner first.” He crossed the kitchen and gave Dean a quick kiss on the lips before setting his coffee cup in the sink. “I just wanna see what Dean Winchester is like on a date. What kind of moves he’s got.”

“Oh, I got moves. Don’t you worry,” Dean winked.

“So, Tuesday, then? You’re picking me up and taking me out to dinner? And _not_ to the Roadhouse,” he added, giving Dean a very pointed look.

Dean rolled his eyes and relented with a nod. “It’s a date, Cas.”

Cas smiled. “ _Then_ we can have sex.”

 

* * *

 

Dean was elbow-deep in the Impala’s engine when he felt his phone vibrate again. Dammit, Cas was killing him here. He was trying to keep himself occupied; thank God Ben had wanted to learn how to change the oil in the Impala so Dean didn’t actually have to think of stuff to do himself. Because at this rate? It was taking every ounce of self-control to keep his mind on the car and not on popping a boner every time Cas texted him.

That first text had come not 30 minutes after Cas left.

**Sometimes when I take a bath at home I’m almost completely naked.**

Dean had coughed involuntarily when he saw those words, his eyes growing wide as they sank in. There was a photo attached. Jesus Christ, had Cas sent him a naked photo while he knew Dean would be spending the day with his son? True, Dean hadn’t left to pick up Ben yet, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, Dean hadn’t wanted to spend the whole weekend thinking about Cas naked, and here Cas was sending him a nude photo.

But would it be _that_ bad if Dean clicked on it? It wasn’t as if he was doing it in front of Ben or anything. And it would give him a little something to look forward to until Tuesday, as well as something to think about while he, ahem, _showered_.

Dean felt his face flush slightly as he clicked on the photo, a burst of laughter escaping his lips before he could rein it in. Yep, Cas was indeed in the bathtub. The photo showed only his legs from the ankle down, however, with one foot hanging out over the edge of the tub. Covered completely in a black sock.

Cas did say _almost_ completely naked.

Jeez, Cas was gonna be the death of him, one way or another.

Dean pocketed his phone and turned back to the Impala, loosening the oil filter cap just enough for Ben to twist it off the rest of the way. Ben popped the funnel in and upended the bottle just like he had seen Dean do hundreds of times over the years. His hands were a greasy mess, much worse than his dad’s. Then again, Dean didn’t quite have the hang of removing the oil drain plug and getting the drip pan underneath quickly enough at Ben’s age either. The kid had done pretty good, though, considering. Dean couldn’t have been prouder.

He grabbed a spare rag and wiped his hands off enough to unlock the screen on his phone and view the new message.

**We’re having a miserable time at the zoo.**

There was another photo attached, so Dean clicked on it; Zach must’ve taken this one with Cas’ phone. Dani was sitting on Cas’ shoulders, and hey, wasn’t she a little old for that? The twins were about Ben’s age, right? Damn, Cas must be stronger than Dean thought; info to file away for later. Dani was giggling in the photo as Cas blew bubbles at the meerkats.

Dean couldn’t help but smile as he replaced the phone in his pocket. He’d never met any of Cas’ family, much less gotten to see how Cas was with his niece and nephew, but if this photo was any indication, the kids must love spending time with their Uncle Cas. And the bubbles, man, that was pretty genius, Dean laughed to himself. Cas was always full of surprises, and Dean couldn’t wait to see what each new day was gonna bring.

“What’s so funny, Dad?”

“What?” Dean snapped back to reality. “Oh, nothing. Just a message. From my friend Cas.”

“The one that was mad at you?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied softly. He never wanted to go through anything like that with Cas ever again. “The one that was mad at me.”

“So he’s not mad at you anymore?”

“No. I, uh, I went over there last night and apologized. Like you suggested.”

“And it worked! See, I told you it would work.”

“Yeah. You’re a pretty smart kid, you know that?”

Ben just beamed to himself as he leaned over the engine and removed the empty oil bottle and funnel, replacing the cap without any prompting whatsoever. Damn, the kid really had been paying attention over the years. Ben climbed off his stepstool and grabbed the rag to wipe off his hands as Dean closed the hood.

“So, you wanna check the tires now?” Dean asked as he filched through his toolbox for the tire gauge and handed it off to his son. He probably wouldn’t have to tell Ben how to do that either.

“Sure.” Ben plopped down in front of the front passenger tire and began twisting off the valve stem cap. “Hey, Dad, can I ask you something?”

“Sure thing, buddy.”

“Don’t get mad, okay?”

_Oh, Lord,_ Dean thought. Starting out a conversation with those words never resulted in anything good. And he was right; Ben _was_ smart, to get his dad out here working on the Impala before he dropped some big bombshell like getting in another fight at school, or getting a F on his report card, or whatever it was Ben was about to say. Dean swallowed his emotions and tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible; whatever it was, Ben was a good kid underneath it all, and they could get through this. “Okay, I won’t get mad. What’s up?”

“Is Cas your boyfriend?”

Dean’s stomach dropped. Damn, that kid was perceptive. How the hell…?

How was Dean supposed to answer, though? Nothing had even _happened_ yet with him and Cas, not really. Just some half-naked kissing on the sofa and falling asleep in each other’s arms. Did that mean Cas was his boyfriend? They hadn’t been on a date yet, though they had plans for one.

And Dean really needed to figure out what kind of place to take Cas. Would Cas be expecting Dean to take him out to some fancy-ass restaurant like Balthazar used to? What sort of date did Cas usually like, anyway? Date-Cas would probably like different stuff from hanging-out-and-watching-Star-Wars-Cas.

Dean could feel the panic rising in his throat. Was he gonna have to learn date stuff now, like what all the forks were for, and how to order fancy wines, and what foie gras was? Jesus, he hadn’t been on a first date in over 12 years; he was just 20 when he and Lisa had started dating. Everything was probably different now.

But what if Ben was asking because he thought it was a terrible idea? Like, what if Dean’s family was disgusted by the thought of him dating a guy? He hadn’t exactly told anyone that he’d dated a guy in the past, so finding out that he’s actually bisexual might be a bit of a shock to everyone. Oh, God, what if they all disowned him and told him they never want to see him again? Dean just couldn’t handle it if Ben told him that.

Maybe he should say no. Technically, Cas wasn’t his boyfriend, since they hadn’t been out on a date or discussed terminology yet, so technically it wouldn’t be lying. Only, Dean couldn’t lie to Ben, even on a technicality. Shit, he really hadn’t thought he’d have to discuss this so soon. It hadn’t even been 24 hours yet.

“’Cause it’s okay, you know,” Ben continued as he checked the tire pressure, entirely unaware of Dean’s internal freak-out, and completely nonchalant like he _wasn’t_ discussing something as huge as his father coming out to his ten-year-old son. “If he’s your boyfriend.”

Wait, what? Dean tried to calm his wildly beating heart and keep his tone as casual as Ben’s. “You’d be okay with that?”

“Dad. Of course I would.” Ben practically rolled his eyes at Dean as he said the words. His expression softened as he continued, however. “He makes you smile all the time, like mom used to. You know, like before you guys got divorced. ‘Cause that made you sad all the time, but now you seem really happy. And you deserve to be happy.”

Dean didn’t quite know what to say. He felt his eyes burn the slightest bit as tears began to prickle at the corners. Fuck, he loved that kid. He was one lucky SOB to end up with a son as great as Ben.

He also reminded himself not to expect the worst the next time Ben wanted to have a serious discussion.

“He does make you happy, right Dad? Especially since you two made up?” Ben twisted the valve stem cap back on and stood up.

“Yeah,” Dean managed to choke out. “He does.”

“Good.” Ben smiled. “Can I meet him?”

Dean laughed in spite of himself. “Well, you know we haven’t exactly been together for very long. How about in a couple of weeks, okay? Promise.”

Ben’s smile could’ve lit the whole street. “Okay. Cool.” He turned back to the Impala and sat down by the rear tire, twisting off the cap. “So, after we’re done tuning her up you’re gonna show me how to drive her, right?” he asked, glancing hopefully at Dean out of the corner of his eye.

“Absolutely,” Dean deadpanned. “Right after you show me your driver’s license.”

Ben laughed and returned to checking the tires. Dean couldn’t believe it. He had just had his first oh-hey-I’m-dating-a-guy conversation and survived. No punches had been thrown. Ben had given Dean his blessing.

Now if he could just survive the next two and a half days until he saw Cas again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not advocate blowing bubbles at the meerkats. However, if you do anyway, (1) don't get caught, and (2) it's hella fun.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas finally gets his date with Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating for this chapter is definitely higher than the previous ones. See updated tags.

Cas couldn’t remember one single time when he hadn’t been nervous on a first date.

His first date with Balthazar back in college had been his first date ever, so yeah, he’d been extremely nervous; there may or may not have been some vomiting in the bathroom beforehand.

After college, when Balthazar had gone off to law school, there’d been a smattering of first dates here and there, none of which had ever led to any second dates. He should have gotten better at dating with a little practice, but he never did, and it most likely showed. Cas finally realized his heart just wasn’t in it anyway and gave up altogether.

And that one morning almost four years ago when Cas had run into Balthazar at the grocery store? _That_ was more nerve-wracking than any date Cas ever been on, standing there in the produce isle with his first (and only) love. He thought he was going to pass out when he casually mentioned lunch and Balthazar agreed.

Then there was Lucifer, who’d hounded a gun-shy Cas for a date for weeks. Cas had finally, breathlessly agreed after a round of phone sex, but that didn’t make the actual first date any less vomit-inducing.

And now Dean was on his way over.

Dean, who’d treated Cas like shit in high school. Dean, who’d then taken this terrible thing that he’d done to Cas, owned up to it, apologized, and then set out to make things right in the present. Dean, who’d slowly, unexpectedly woven his way into Castiel’s life and become the closest friend Cas had aside from Gabe.

Dean, who quoted The Princess Bride and made killer spaghetti sauce, who watched Disney movies with his niece and did homework with his son on the weekends. Dean, who looked better in a pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt than any single person Cas had ever met. Dean, whose jade-green eyes crinkled when he smiled unblinkingly at Cas, whose gaze bore right through Cas’ being and warmed him from the inside out.

Dean, who’d confessed he was in love with Cas and had been for a while, whose kisses were better than the best sex Cas had ever had, who was already well on his way to cementing his place in Cas’ heart as the only man Cas would ever want to be with for the rest of his life.

Yeah, it was kind of a lot of pressure to put on one single date.

Cas should have been nervous. He should have been in and out of the bathroom all afternoon, alternating between drinking Pepto Bismol by the gallon and vomiting it right back up. He should have changed his outfit a dozen times and called Gabe at least half that many to inquire as to whether he was doing the right thing.

Instead, he sat in his leather recliner in the living room, calmly rereading _Fahrenheit 451_ for probably the dozenth time. He’d known exactly what he’d wanted to wear, having remembered in hindsight the way Dean’s breath had quickened when Cas came over wearing a dark shirt and red tie.

At least, he was _hoping_ he’d remembered that part correctly.

He took a sip of tea, having decided to forgo the wine lest he get tipsy before anything good happened, and sank farther into the seat to get more comfortable.

At last, Cas heard the doorbell ring, that sound he had been waiting since Saturday morning for.

No, scratch that. The sound he’d been waiting since January for, ever since Dean’s birthday party of Chinese food and Dr. Sexy on the DVR, when he’d realized that he liked having Dean in his life yet hadn’t consciously figured out what that meant.

He marked his page with a bookmark and opened the door. Cas knew Dean would probably dress up, since this was a real date and all, but he’d never expected just how unbelievably hot Dean would look in a suit.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Cas exclaimed as he gazed up and down the form of the man standing there. Dean was wearing a charcoal-gray suit with just a tiny bit of sheen, and a white button-down shirt with the first few buttons undone, immediately drawing Cas’ eye to the expanse of freckled throat beneath. Cas wanted his mouth on that spot right there, right now. Then he’d work his way down. Yep, that sounded like a good plan.

“Is that how you greet all your first dates, Cas?” Dean inquired with a wink.

 _No, just the ones who look like sex on a stick_.

“Hey, look,” Dean coughed. “I’m sorry. I know I probably should’ve worn a tie or something, because this is a big night and all, but…”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, as Cas pulled Dean through the doorway and into a crushing kiss. “No, Dean. You look, just, wow,” he stuttered as they broke apart.

“So do you,” Dean smiled against Cas’ mouth, pulling him in for one more kiss.

Cas finally parted from Dean with a sigh and ushered him inside. “You want a drink first, or should we get going?”

“Nah, I’m okay. Hey, uh, Cas.” Dean held out a bouquet of flowers which Cas hadn’t even noticed. “I got these for you.”

Cas was right. Dean _was_ the kind of man to spring for roses.

“Thank you,” Cas blushed. How was it possible that this man made him want to do the dirtiest, filthiest things imaginable and yet till make him blush like he was some high school kid talking to his first crush? He set the flowers down for a moment as he donned his suit jacket, then picked them right back up. “So, shall we, then?”

“You want to put those in some water first?” Dean asked, gesturing to the bouquet.

“Are you kidding me? I’m carrying these with me everywhere we go tonight,” Cas smiled as he leaned in for one last peck. “I want everyone to see what a romantic you are.”

“All right, you big sap. Let’s go.” Dean rolled his eyes as he reached for the door, stepping aside and waving for Cas to exit first.

Cas couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as Dean opened the passenger door to the Impala to let him in first before crossing over to the driver’s side. The flowers, the door-opening – it was all so genuinely chivalrous, and nothing like Cas had ever seen out of Dean before. He wondered for a moment if this was a side of Dean that had always been there, or if Dean had looked up an online checklist of “how to impress a date” specifically for this night. Either way, Cas decided, he liked it, and couldn’t wait to see what came next.

Dean sat there a minute behind the wheel, looking suddenly nervous. He looked down at his lap, scrubbing his hands across his pants a few times before looking back up and glancing over. “Cas, do you trust me?”

Cas looked at Dean for a moment, his brow furrowed in confusion as to why Dean would want to know that now, of all things, but he knew the answer regardless. “Absolutely. I trust you.”

“Good.” Dean glanced at Cas out of the corner of his eye and gave a shy smile as he pulled a blindfold out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Cas. “Would you mind putting this on, then? I, um, I want it to be a surprise. Where we’re going.”

Cas didn’t think it would be possible for his own smile to get any wider. “Of course.” He grabbed the blindfold from Dean and slipped it over his eyes.

Dean reached over and held Cas’ hand as he drove, keeping Cas grounded in a present that he couldn’t quite believe he was lucky enough to be in. Fifteen winding, disorienting minutes later, the Impala came to a stop. Dean gave Cas’ hand one last squeeze before he turned off the engine. “Okay, Cas. Give me five minutes to run inside and make sure everything’s ready, then I’ll come out and get you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Cas nodded.

“And don’t take that blindfold off ‘til I get back, okay?”

“ _Okay_ , Dean.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

The door to the Impala shut, and Cas was left alone and blindfolded.

Okay, now he was nervous. What did Dean have planned that he had to go to such great lengths to keep it a secret? Cas’ mind raced as he sat there in the quiet of the car. And, yeah, that was weird – it was utterly silent here, wherever they were. No traffic sounds, or pedestrians chattering nearby. Cas had assumed at first that they were in a restaurant parking lot, but the lack of ambient noise made him second-guess his assumption.

Where the hell had Dean taken him?

At last, Dean opened the door to the Impala and guided Cas out of the car, down a concrete walkway and up a few stairs. “Okay. You can take off the blindfold now.”

Cas blinked a few times as he recognized the door in front of him, then frowned in confusion. “Dean, this is your house.”

“It gets better. I promise.” With a shaky hand Dean opened the door, and Cas gasped as he took in the front room. There were candles of all shapes and sizes on every surface, casting a soft glow around the room. A bottle of champagne chilled in a silver ice bucket on the coffee table next to a tray of strawberries. Jack Johnson played quietly on the stereo; Dean must’ve borrowed the CD from someone, knowing that it was one of Cas’ favorites.

“Dean, this is amazing,” he breathed.

“You like it?” Dean asked hesitantly. “’Cause, you know, we can still go out if you want. I know you wanted a real date, and…”

Cas turned back to Dean and silenced him with a kiss. “I love it.” He couldn’t wait to see what was for dinner; the smell wafting through the house was absolutely mouth-watering, and his stomach began to make its empty presence known. “So, what’s on the menu tonight?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Dean took Cas’ hand and led him into the dining room, which was decorated every bit as lovely as the living room. Cas set his bouquet on the table as Dean pulled his chair out. “Have a seat, and I’ll bring dinner out in a minute.”

Cas tried to discern the smells emanating from the kitchen; it was vaguely familiar, a little bit spicy, and reminded him of home. Dean returned in a minute and set a salad plate at the corner of his and Cas’ place settings. “This is just the side dish, not, like, a salad course or anything, so don’t eat yet.” He disappeared into the kitchen again.

This time Dean returned with two steaming bowls and set them down in the center of his and Cas’ plates. Cas felt his eyes widen as he saw what Dean had cooked. “You made shrimp and grits?”

Dean sat down and looked at Cas, almost apologetic. “I know it’s not, like, first date food or anything, with all the garlic and onions and stuff, but I remembered you said once how your mom used to make it,” he shrugged.

“Dean,” Cas breathed, shaking his head. “I don’t even remember telling you that. When did I tell you that?”

“Back when we were working on the den. You remember, you told me your mother was half-Cajun and that she used to make you this for dinner on the nights when Gabe and Anna were out and it was just the two of you.”

 _But that was… that was almost six months ago! We weren’t even friends yet!_ Back then they were just two guys awkwardly fumbling their way through a stack of drywall, both willing it to be over soon. How could Dean have remembered that one tiny little thing that Cas had said? Cas felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes; this was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for him.

Dean must’ve mistaken Cas’ stunned silence as disappointment or irritation because he stammered a bit, continuing. “I’m sorry, Cas. Maybe this was out of line, doing something that was just between you and your mom. You know, I almost made steaks tonight, and that mushroom risotto that you made me that one time, because it was so good, and that night felt so much like a date that I wanted to kiss you all night, even though I was freaked out because I’d had a sex dream about you, and I didn’t know what that meant for me, but I don’t know, I just remembered the way you talked about your mom, and how much you love Cajun food, but I’ve never made this before, so it’s probably not as good as hers, and…”

Dean finally stopped talking when he found himself with a lapful of Cas, kissing him quiet. “Dean, I love it. It’s perfect,” Cas whispered as they broke apart.

“You haven’t tried it yet,” Dean murmured with a smile as he settled his hands on Cas’ hips. “Maybe you should hold off on your glowing culinary review for a minute.”

Cas climbed off Dean’s lap and returned to his seat. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You know you’re a great cook. I think you’re just fishing for a compliment.”

Dean grabbed the bottle of wine and poured Cas a glass. “Maybe I just wanted you to come over here and kiss me.”

“You don’t need Cajun food for that,” Cas winked as he picked up his fork and took a bite. “Oh, God,” he moaned. “This is amazing.”

“You keep moaning like that, and we’re not gonna make it to dessert.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean, weighing his options. “What did you make for dessert?”

“Bread pudding with pecan praline sauce.”

Cas flashed a sly smile at Dean. “That’ll keep ‘til breakfast,” he replied, moaning suggestively around another bite.

 

* * *

 

Dean had no idea how he made it through dinner.

It took every ounce of self control he had not to throw the dishes aside and have Cas right there on the dining room table, what with all the sex noises Cas was making. But then Cas looked up at Dean and winked, and Dean knew Cas was doing it all just to get a rise out of him, so of course for the rest of dinner it was fucking _on_.

Cas took another bite and moaned like he was on the verge of some earth-shattering orgasm. Dean retaliated by licking every last speck of food from his fork, gazing at Cas through his lashes as his tongue trailed along each tine. When he finally ran his tongue across his bottom lip and sucked it ever so gently between his teeth, Cas whimpered and dropped his fork on the floor.

All told, it was pretty clear to Dean by dinner’s end that they’d be heading straight upstairs. Once again, however, Cas surprised the hell out of Dean by insisting that they clean up before doing anything else _(“You can’t leave dirty dishes in the sink, Dean. You’ll get drain flies.” “What the hell are drain flies? And way to kill a guy’s boner, Cas.” “You’ll thank me tomorrow morning when you make me breakfast in an insect-free kitchen. And besides, Dean, nothing kills a boner faster than having sex on the kitchen countertops and seeing roaches crawling around because you couldn’t be bothered to take two seconds to load the dishwasher.”)._

If the insect talk hadn’t completely killed Dean’s boner, doing the dishes definitely finished it off. It wasn’t all bad, though, being side by side there at the sink, rinsing the plates while Cas loaded them into the dishwasher and periodically bumped Dean’s hip. It was all so familiar that Dean couldn’t help but smile to himself, remembering another night not too long ago when Cas came over for spaghetti. Dean had been so certain that night, as he and Cas washed the dishes together, bumping hips and smiling like idiots, that Cas was gonna make a move. Instead he ripped Dean’s heart out and confessed he was seeing someone else.

Tonight, though? Cas was smiling for Dean, because of Dean. That ear-to-ear smile that made Cas’ eyes crinkle? That smile was solely for Dean. The quickening of Cas’ breath every time Dean’s hands came into close proximity? That was because of Dean. The slight flush that began at the tips of Cas’ ears and slowly spread downwards every time Dean glanced over at Cas and smiled? Dean did that. No one else. It was exhilarating, and humbling, and exciting, and terrifying, and a million other things at once that Dean wasn’t used to feeling.

As he rinsed the last plate in his hand, the heat between him and Cas having cooled considerably during their after-dinner cleanup, Dean began to reconsider taking Cas straight upstairs. He was kind of an idiot, actually. Like, what the hell had he been thinking? This whole setup, with dinner conveniently at his own house mere feet away from his bed? It suddenly seemed like all Dean wanted to do was make it easier to get into Cas’ pants, and that wasn’t what this night was about. He hadn’t meant it that way, at least. Cas deserved so much more than that.

So, what now? He didn’t really have much of a plan for the rest of the night beyond the champagne and strawberries in the living room. Should he suggest watching a movie? Dean really had no idea how to romance a guy, generally speaking, or Cas, more specifically; he was kinda making this all up as he went along. And at this rate he was probably gonna rub the enamel off the plate in his hands before he figured out his next move.

Cas seemed to sense Dean’s hesitation, though, because he suddenly reached over and shut off the sink, took the plate from Dean’s hands, and placed it in the dishwasher. He wrapped Dean in his arms and kissed him, slow and languid and thorough, until every bit of apprehension left Dean’s body, gradually replaced by that delicious heat from earlier.

“Dean?” Cas murmured against Dean's mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Take me upstairs?”

“Yeah. Sure.” _Don’t think. Just go._ He took Cas by the hand and led him through the doorway toward the stairs, when Cas stopped.

“Dean, wait.”

“Something wrong?”

Cas cocked his head and gave Dean a you’re-such-an-idiot-but-I-love-you-anyway look. “We can’t just leave all these candles, Dean. We’ll burn the house down.”

Dean rolled his eyes and gave Cas a peck on the cheek before turning toward the living room. “Yes, dear.”

They extinguished the candles one by one until the house was dark, with only the ambient glow from the street lights trickling through the windows. As Dean pinched out the last flame he felt Cas’ arms wind around his waist as Cas placed a chaste kiss at the base of his hairline.

“Can we go now?” Cas murmured into the junction of Dean’s neck, teeth scraping the sensitive skin there.

Dean craned his head to give Cas better access. “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to blow out all the candles first, not me.”

“So it’s my call, then?” He ran his fingertips along the muscles of Dean’s abs, scratching faintly through the fabric of Dean’s shirt.

“Whatever you want, Cas.” Dean lay his head back against Cas’ shoulder, his breathing growing increasingly heavy as Cas’ hands begun to tease just beneath the waistband of his pants. “I’m all yours.”

“Well, what I want right now,” Cas commanded as he dipped his hand underneath Dean’s boxers, “is to get you upstairs, get you naked, and make you come.”

“That,” Dean gulped, “sounds like a pretty good plan.”

“Pretty good?” Cas mused as he skimmed his fingertips along Dean’s pubic hair. “That doesn’t sound like you’re very enthusiastic about tonight’s events.”

“I am,” Dean gasped. Jesus, fuck, Cas was killing him here and they hadn’t even started yet. Cas’ hand reached down lower, just barely grazing alongside Dean’s erection, and cupped Dean’s balls, massaging them in his fingers. “Holy shit,” Dean breathed. “Very enthusiastic. You have no fucking idea.”

Cas removed his hand from Dean’s pants and pulled Dean by the lapels toward the stairs. “I think I’ll need first hand evidence of this so-called enthusiasm,” he growled. “I can’t just take your word for it.”

“Oh, you’ll get it,” Dean breathed as he followed Cas upstairs on shaky legs, his arousal straining against his trousers. “I’m sure of that.”

Then suddenly they were inside the bedroom and Cas’ mouth was on his. Cas’ hot, sinful mouth had somehow already figured out every one of Dean’s kinks and ran down the list with frightening precision. Dean reached up to Cas’ neck, trying his best not to break the kiss, and worked towards loosening the tie around Cas’ neck.

Once Cas was free from its confines Dean nuzzled into Cas’ neck as he undid the shirt buttons one by one. He slid the fabric down, revealing Cas’ smooth shoulders, his muscular arms, his trim torso. He trailed a row of kisses across Cas’ chest, settling in briefly to suck a mark at the dip between Cas’ collarbones. He licked and sucked his way down Cas’ body, savoring the little gasps and shudders that Cas was making. “Fuck, Cas, the way you sound. The way you feel. So good.”

Dean latched onto a jut of hipbone just above the waistband of Cas’ pants, sucking another dark bruise into the skin there as Cas toed off his shoes and socks. He undid Cas’ belt buckle and unbuttoned Cas’ pants, sliding the zipper down one teasing tooth at a time. At last Cas’ erection sprang free, tenting his briefs so obscenely and invitingly that Dean couldn’t help but wrap his hand around it, feeling its hardness through the fabric.

“ _Jesus_ , Dean, if you keep this up, you’re gonna miss all the fun,” Cas gasped. “Because I’m pretty sure you’re about to finish me off here.”

Dean glanced up as he trailed his fingers along Cas’ length. Cas’ head was tilted back, his eyes squeezed shut as his breathing quickened; Dean thought it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, and he wanted more. “We got all night, baby. Plenty of time for round two,” he purred, placing another kiss along Cas’ bruised hipbone as he tugged downward at the elastic of Cas’ briefs.

“Dean,” Cas suddenly choked, jerking away. He grabbed Dean’s shirt and pulled Dean up into another crushing kiss.

Dean didn’t like being distracted from his ministrations but fuck, this was good too. The way Cas just melted into him, the way Cas’ hands fit on his body, the way Cas’ tongue did that thing that he loved, Dean could almost get addicted to it. As much as he wanted to stand there and just kiss Cas all night, though, what he wanted even more was to get Cas naked and watch him come completely undone.

Very slowly Dean backed Cas up toward the bed, never breaking their kiss, until the backs of Cas’ knees hit the bed. Dean finally pulled away, dragging his thumb across Cas’ lower lip, all pink and swollen and spit-slick, and urged Cas to sit down. He toed off his shoes and socks and quickly kicked them behind him. He unbuttoned his shirt one teasing button at a time, reveling in the way Cas’ lips parted and his eyes tracked every new inch of skin that revealed itself. He’d always felt kinda silly doing this sort of thing in the past, but damn, Cas’ reaction was just so perfect.

Finally Dean undid his pants and let them slide down his legs, stepping out of them and toward the man on his bed. Damn, Cas was beautiful. He sat there on the bed like it was some kind of throne, leaning back on his elbows, legs parted in invitation. As Dean stepped forward Cas began to shift back on the bed. Dean stalked forward further, climbing onto the bed on his hands and knees as Cas shifted further back. At last Dean was fully on the bed, hovering over Cas, drinking in every inch of the man beneath him.

“Cas, look at you,” he breathed. “I just can’t get over how gorgeous you are, all flushed and breathless and hard for me.” He bent his head down and kissed Cas ever so slowly, tracing his tongue around the outline of Cas’ lips, just barely dipping inside to touch the tip of Cas’ tongue before drawing back. He did it again, and again, determined to learn every nuance of Cas’ lips. He could taste faint traces of the wine from dinner, along with a little garlic and onion, and it shouldn’t be that hot, but damn, he just couldn’t get enough of it.

At last he brought his lips to Cas’, sucking Cas’ top lip between his own, feeling every ridge of skin with his tongue before moving onto the bottom lip. He nibbled ever so slightly, feeling Cas gasp against his lips, before finally thrusting his tongue inside Cas’ mouth. He slowly lowered his hips down, lips never parting from Cas’, and just barely brushed against Cas’ erection, drawing a lengthy moan from Cas’ lips. Slowly and deliberately he teased Cas’ cock with his own through the fabric of their briefs, feeling Cas growing harder with each shift of his hips.

It was blissful, but he wanted more. Dean sat up and tugged Cas’ briefs down, mesmerized at the sight of Cas’ cock lying flushed and hard against his abdomen. He pulled his own boxers down and tossed them aside, leaning forward on his hands just inches above Cas.

 _Cas_ , his best friend, whom he had been dreaming about and wanting for months. This man who had such a huge heart, who made Dean laugh, who had filled every inch of Dean’s life that before had seemed so empty. He was finally here, _they_ were finally here, together.

“I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” Dean whispered as he traced his hands along Cas’ body. “All these months I’ve wanted you, couldn’t stop thinking about how gorgeous you are. These hands.” He picked up Cas’ left hand and intertwined their fingers, feeling the silky smoothness of the skin. “I’ve dreamed about these hands, having them on me.” He finally placed a kiss on each knuckle before drawing Cas’ index finger into his mouth, sucking hard along the underside, swirling his tongue around the fingertip as Cas let out a shuddering breath.

“And this right here,” Dean murmured as he traced a fingertip along the hard ridges of Cas’ pecs. “That day at the amusement park, you remember? You hugged me after we got off the coaster, and I could feel how hard you’d gotten since you started working out, and God, I wanted you so much.” He leaned down and trailed his tongue along each curve, stopping to graze his teeth along Cas’ nipples. The way Cas sucked in a sharp breath each time he did that, God, he was gorgeous.

“Dean,” Cas whimpered, his eyes fluttering shut. He turned his head to the side, hips arching away from Dean, almost as if he was trying to escape the intensity of Dean’s touch, Dean’s words.

Dean took each of Cas’ hands in his own and clutched them above Cas’ head. He rested his forehead against Cas’, breathing in the scent of Cas’ skin before he spoke again. He almost never said these words, because they always felt a little too cliché, but something told Dean that Cas had never heard them before. And tonight, being here with Cas, somehow it didn’t seem like some line from a script of things you’re supposed to say. Tonight, and every night after this, Dean knew he meant it, from the very depths of his being. “Cas,” he whispered. “I want to make love to you.”

Cas opened his eyes at last and looked at Dean, and gave a tiny, tentative little nod. Dean leaned down and captured Cas’ mouth with his own, shifting his hips until their erections were lined up side by side, and holy fuck, that felt good. He groaned at the sensation of Cas’ cock sliding against his own as he undulated his hips back and forth, his forehead still pressed against Cas’ as he panted against Cas’ mouth.

It was a little awkward and quite a bit uncoordinated, since Dean had no idea what he was doing, but pretty soon he found a rhythm as he thrust his hips down against Cas again and again. Dean released Cas’ hands where they were still clutched above Cas’ head and propped himself up on one elbow as he captured Cas’ mouth in a kiss once more, caressing Cas’ face with his other hand. He brushed a lock of sweat-soaked hair back from Cas’ face, stroked the sandpaper texture of Cas’ stubbled jaw, felt his fingertips along the sensitive spot behind Cas’ ear. Cas keened, leaning into the touch.

“Dean. Dean,” Cas whispered, chanting the name over and over again as if it was the only word that he would ever need for the rest of his life. He brought his hands down to Dean’s ass and pulled Dean harder against him, grinding his hips up to meet Dean’s. It was perfect, riding that razor’s edge of too much and not enough, with only their heavy breathing and the slick sounds of flesh sliding against flesh.

It was all too soon before Cas’ hips began to stutter in their rhythm against Dean’s. Cas began to whimper, biting off a moan as Dean began to thrust against him in earnest. Suddenly Cas squeezed his eyes shut and he buried his face in Dean’s neck.

“No,” Dean gasped. “Cas. Open your eyes.”

Cas pressed his forehead further into Dean’s neck and clutched tighter at Dean’s shoulders as the waves of pleasure built to a crest.

“Cas, look at me. Baby, just look at me.”

“Dean,” he breathed. “Dean, I’m close.”

“Cas,” Dean panted. “Let me see you. I want to see you come.”

Cas pulled his head back and locked eyes with his love just as the orgasm ripped through him. He came with a shout as he rocked up into Dean, holding on for dear life, his face contorted in that gorgeous mix of intense pleasure bordering on pain. Dean followed a moment later, white hot heat exploding in wave after blissful wave.

Slowly they both came down from their high and just lay there, breathless and sweating, never wanting the moment to end.

“Holy shit,” Dean declared as he rolled over onto his back.

Cas nodded wordlessly, staring at the ceiling.

The quiet moment stretched into quiet minutes. “Hey. You okay there?” Dean grazed his fingers along Cas’ bicep, worry beginning to creep in at Cas’ prolonged silence.

Cas glanced at Dean for a moment, his face unreadable, then finally rolled over and snuggled against Dean’s side. He threw an arm and a leg across Dean’s body thereby assuring that Dean wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he murmured, placing a kiss against Dean’s chest. “I’m glad we made it here, Dean.”

Dean pulled Cas closer and kissed the top of Cas’ head. “Me too, Cas. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so some of the updated tags aren't coming until the next chapter. Consider it a preview of coming attractions.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff, some feels, and some quoting of The Princess Bride & Star Wars

_Wednesday morning, 6:30 a.m._

“Oh, god,” Cas groaned. “What is that horrendous noise?”

“It’s the alarm,” Dean croaked as he stretched out his sleep-stiff muscles. “I didn’t want you to be late for work.”

“School ended Friday. I’m on summer vacation. Turn that damn thing off.” Cas burrowed further into Dean’s side and pulled the covers over his head.

“Oh, so you’re saying, you’re a man who doesn’t like to be bothered while he’s sleeping?” Dean couldn’t keep the smirk out of his voice.

“Shut up and go back to sleep.”

“’Cause now that we’re up, I thought we could find something to do,” Dean murmured as he reached under the covers and wrapped his hand around Cas’ morning erection.

Cas’ breath hitched and he dug his fingernails into Dean’s side at the first hint of Dean’s touch.

“But if you’d rather not be bothered, I’ll be happy to leave you alone,” Dean teased as he eased up on his grip.

“Dean,” Cas gasped. “Please.”

“So you don’t want to go back to sleep? Kinda giving me mixed signals here, Cas.”

“Please,” Cas implored, hips bucking into Dean’s touch, chasing that blessed friction. “Don’t stop.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Dean tightened his grip and gave Cas his very own wake-up call.

 

 

_8:03 a.m._

Cas suddenly gasped, accidentally elbowing Dean in the side as he jumped out of bed. “Dean!”

“What is it?” Dean groaned, having settled into a very nice dream after he and Cas exchanged hand jobs and drifted back to sleep.

“We left the strawberries out!”

 

 

_10:19 a.m._

“Why would you schedule a meeting today? I thought we could spend the day together.” Cas tried not to pout, but he suspected that he was rather unsuccessful.

“I’m sorry, baby, but I thought you’d be at school all day. I was just trying to keep myself occupied so I wouldn’t miss you so much.” Dean’s inclusion of his new favorite pet name in his apology did not go unnoticed, but it also didn’t soften the blow either.

“Can’t you call and reschedule?” And now Cas sounded like a petulant child. He couldn’t help it, though. It had taken him and Dean months to get here; he was rather hoping he could savor the new-couple high a little longer.

“Cas, I wish I could, but this is a potentially big job. I don’t want to screw it up. Maybe I could make it up to you later?” Dean nuzzled Cas’ neck and kissed that sensitive spot behind his ear.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing in particular, but I’m sure we can think of something,” Dean growled as he nipped Cas’ neck.

“Go. Now.” Cas pulled Dean off his neck before things got any more heated, and gave him a shove toward the door. “Be brilliant. I’ll see you later.”

“’Kay.” Dean leaned in for one last kiss before grabbing his keys. “Make yourself at home, and I’ll be back in a coupl’a hours, okay?”

“Okay.” Cas rolled the words around in his mouth before deciding to just fuck it and spit it out. “I love you.”

Dean’s smile was blinding. “I love you too.”

 

 

_3:11 p.m._

“Oh my God, Cas. What are you doing?” Dean asked as he shut the door, throwing his keys on the table.

“Cleaning.” Cas crossed the room and gave Dean a kiss, still clutching a rag and a can of Pledge. “I thought it would help me pass the time while you were at your meeting. Plus it looks like you haven’t dusted here in years.”

“You’re listening to Christmas music,” Dean scoffed.

Cas shrugged. “I was in a festive mood.”

“It’s June!”

“It’s always the season for peace on earth and good will toward men, Dean.”

 

 

_7:35 p.m._

“You didn’t have to do that, Dean,” Cas declared, still out of breath as he zipped up his pants.

“You saying you didn’t enjoy it? ‘Cause, you know, I’ve never done that before, so I don’t have much of a frame of reference, but it seemed like you enjoyed it.”

Cas looked over at Dean for a moment, then slid across the sofa and snuggled up against Dean’s side. “I did. Very much. I’m just saying, you don’t have to do that just because there’s nothing on television.”

“Seemed like a good enough reason to me.” Dean wrapped his arm tighter around Cas, stroking his fingertips along Cas’ side. “So, I really did okay?”

“Well, I haven’t had a blow job in a couple of years, so I don’t think I’m in much of a position to critique your performance. But considering that your neighbors now likely know how much I love your mouth, and how embarrassingly quickly it was over, I think you can infer the rest.”

“Wait, a couple of _years_?” Dean was incredulous. “So, you and Balthazar didn’t…”

Cas shrugged. “I did. He didn’t. Not much, anyway.”

Dean was silent for a long moment. “What a dick.”

Cas winced slightly at Dean’s words. “I’m not going to force someone to do something they don’t want to do, Dean.”

“Hey. Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I just,” Dean tugged on Cas’ wrist as Cas began to pull away. “You’re an amazing person, Cas, and you do so much for everyone else. You deserve for good things to happen to you, as much as possible.”

“So you’re saying that if I send good karma out into the world then I should get lots of blow jobs in return?”

Dean snickered. “Yeah, I think that’s a fair trade.”

“Well, far be it from me to upset the balance of the universe,” Cas murmured as he leaned over and pulled Dean’s zipper down.

 

 

_Thursday, 7:41 a.m._

“So what do you normally do during the summer, anyway?” Dean inquired, curling his arms around Cas’ gloriously naked form as the two of them slowly woke up.

“Well, the past two years I took summer classes for my master’s, and spent every free moment at the library studying. Before that?” Cas was silent a moment, remembering. “Probably reading and doing lesson plans for the school year.”

“Nothing fun?” Dean mused as he trailed a light finger down Cas’ abdomen. “I think we need to change that.”

Cas pulled away and swung his legs off the edge of the bed. “Coffee first. And breakfast. Then we can have fun.” He crossed the room and filched through the top drawer of Dean’s dresser, pulling out a pair of Dean’s boxers.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Dean snatched the underwear from Cas’ hands and replaced them in the drawer. “I hereby declare Thursdays to be Naked Day at the Winchester house.”

“Naked Day? Dean, come on. You have a job. We can’t just spend all day in bed.”

“I’m self-employed. I can take a day off. _And_ I had another kind of job in mind,” he growled, dropping down to his knees.

“God, I love Naked Day,” Cas moaned.

 

 

_Saturday 8:24 a.m._

“I know, Dean,” Cas sighed. “I just wish that your son coming over didn’t mean not seeing you for three days.”

“I can come over to your place first thing Tuesday morning, right after I drop Ben off at Lisa’s.” Dean pulled Cas into a tight hug, kissing the top of his head. “Look, just give me a few weeks, okay? I know this sucks, but I just… I want to cement what we have before we let the outside world taint it.”

Cas smiled against his neck. “That was so poetic, Dean.”

“Shut up, asshole,” Dean teased, pushing Cas away. “Get back on toast duty.”

Cas filched through the fridge, at last locating the butter. “You know, just once I wish you would have some fruit on hand.”

“Hey! I bought those strawberries, remember?”

“Yes, you did. And then left them uncovered on the coffee table all night without eating a single one.”

“If I remember correctly, it was _you_ who was so hot for me that we had to go straight upstairs. _I_ was perfectly willing to spend the evening sipping champagne and slow dancing to Jack Johnson. And eating strawberries.”

“Yes, you’re a paragon of virtue, Dean.”

 

 

_Tuesday, 9:15 a.m._

Cas startled when he heard the knock on the door. “Dean,” he sighed when he opened the door. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, baby.” Dean grabbed Cas by the ass and hauled him inside, nipping at his favorite spot on Cas’ neck. “I’ve been looking forward to Naked Day all weekend.”

“I thought Thursday was Naked Day,” Cas panted.

“That’s at my house. At your house it’s Tuesday.” Dean reached two hands under Cas’ legs, lifting Cas into his arms.

Cas wrapped his legs tight around Dean’s body as Dean carried him into the bedroom. “God, I love Naked Day.”

 

 

_Thursday, 5:47 p.m._

“Red meat for dinner again?”

“Hey, you say that like I _don’t_ make the most awesome steaks this side of the Mississippi,” Dean scoffed as he added more dry rub to the filets.

Cas just rolled his eyes. “You know, one of these days I’m buying you a t-shirt that reads, ‘My other boyfriend is my grill’.”

“Boyfriend, huh?”

Cas felt his eyes widen as he realized what he’d just said. “Shit. Sorry. It just kind of slipped out.”

“It’s okay.” Dean smiled at Cas, that soft sort of half-smile that he did where he’d look Cas right in the eye and not blink. Cas thought he might spontaneously combust someday from the intensity of the love that radiated from that gaze.

Cas flitted his eyes toward the oven and coughed, breaking the spell. “So what else did you have in mind for dinner?”

“Got some potatoes baking. Sour cream’s in the fridge.”

“Jeez, Dean, would it kill you to eat a vegetable once in a while?”

Dean pondered for a moment. “I don’t know. Let’s not risk it, though, huh?”

“Seriously, Dean.” Cas came up behind Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean’s middle. “I just want you to be around for a long time. _Not_ , you know, dying of heart disease before Ben graduates high school.”

“Hey.” Dean turned around and snaked his arms around Cas’ waist, pulling him close. “I’m not going anywhere, you hear me?”

Cas pulled his hand from where it rested against Dean’s back and placed it against Dean’s chest, feeling the steady beat of the heart within. “I hear you,” he whispered.

“After all, I can’t leave my boyfriend before I’ve had a chance to teach him how to cook the perfect steak.”

 

 

_Friday, 10:27 p.m._

“Dean, tell me something?”

“What do you want to know?” Dean was warm and blissfully happy with Cas in his arms, stroking his hands lightly along Cas’ ribs.

“Tell me how you met Lisa?”

Dean had to think for a moment about Cas’ question. They’d never really talked about this before, and he didn’t really want to talk now about the ex who broke his heart last year. But Dean had nothing to hide as far as Cas was concerned. Cas was love and trust and nonjudgement.

He cleared his throat. “At the Roadhouse. I was 20. I’d been working there since the summer after I turned 18. Ellen basically threatened me and told me to come work for her if I knew what was good for me.”

Dean loved Ellen, and he liked working there, was grateful for the job, but still hated the fact that it felt so much like charity. Like Dean couldn’t take care of himself and his family, and needed a handout.

Turned out Ellen was right. Dean was, is, and always has been a screw-up at heart.

“About a year and a half later I’d saved up enough to start school. Electrical technology. Few months later Lisa started working there. Don’t know what she saw in a mouthy little jerk like me, but I was sure glad she did. We dated for about 6 months. Then we got in some stupid argument Halloween night, some jackass at a party we went to wouldn’t keep his hands off her. She told me I was being ridiculous for acting all jealous, and she dumped me.”

“You two broke up? I didn’t know that,” Cas murmured.

“Yeah. Tried to get back together a couple of times, but it just wasn’t working, you know? Then she got pregnant. Changed everything. My whole life.”

Dean remembered clearly the utter disbelief and hopelessness that coursed through his veins in that moment.

 _I’m_ _too young._

_She’s too young._

_There must be a mistake._

and

_How many things can I screw up in one lifetime?_

“Anyway, we started spending more time together during the pregnancy, you know, doctor’s visits and everything. We ended up getting back together. When Ben was born in July I asked her to marry me. She said yes.

“It was good, you know? We were young and stupid, but we had each other, and we had this perfect little boy with his life in our hands. But things were tough as shit, too. We moved into her parents’ basement; I was still in school, working nights at the Roadhouse. I think Sammy spent more of his senior year in that basement babysitting Ben than he did at home. If it wasn’t for him, I don’t think I ever would’ve graduated and gotten my electrician’s license.”

“So, how did you end up working for Bobby, then? I never was completely clear on that.”

“You know the Roadhouse burned down a few years later. Some kitchen fire that got out of control. Well, Bobby was one of the regulars and offered to rebuild it at a discount. I told him I wanted to help, whatever way I could. That place was like my home, you know? Anyway, he hired me on the spot. Once I got a taste of that, I knew I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. Quit my day job and went to work for Bobby full-time.

“You know, I always just figured I’d end up making minimum wage at some union job and bartending on the weekends. Never in a million years did I think I’d end up with a job that I loved, that I was actually good at.”

“But you did,” Cas interrupted. “Because you’re one of the strongest, smartest, most determined people I know.”

“Think you got me confused with someone else, there, Cas.”

“Never,” Cas murmured against Dean’s skin. “You know, one of these days I’m gonna make you see just how smart, and strong, and righteous, and loving, and good you are.”

“You got your work cut out for you, there.”

“That’s okay,” Cas whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

 

_Tuesday, 6:21 p.m._

“I still can’t believe you made chili dogs for dinner.” Dean shook his head. “And after you tried to lecture _me_ on too much animal fat in my diet.”

“The hot dogs are from organic, grass-fed beef. And I made the chili with ground turkey, so both are healthier alternatives than your normal fare.” Cas took a bite, pondering the taste, and internally declared his meal a success. “So what’s your verdict?”

Dean didn’t even stop to swallow before answering. “Mmmf. It’s awesome, Cas. This is really good.”

Cas smiled, happy to see Dean enjoying a healthier meal for once. And if he kept to himself that little detail that he’d used his Vitamix to hide carrots, zucchini, and spinach in the chili, well, Dean didn’t need to know that, right?

 

 

_Wednesday, 7:33 p.m._

“I still don’t see why you’re so on edge, Dean. It’s just dinner. I’m not asking to sit on your lap and hand-feed you, or blow you under the table or anything.”

_It’s not just dinner. It’s dinner in public. With a guy. That I’m having sex with._

“What are you so worried about, anyway? That people are gonna see us and know that we’re sleeping together? Because I assure you, nearly everybody in this restaurant has had sex at some point. I’ll bet that at least one couple here owns a sex swing. There are probably half a dozen people here, men and women alike, who know exactly what a butt plug feels like, and I’d bet at least that many have had at least one threesome. What you and I do when we’re alone is hardly the most shocking thing that’s going on behind the patrons’ closed doors.”

Dean knew Cas had a point, but still. This was a big step, one that he still wasn’t sure he was ready to take despite the fact that he’d already agreed to it, driven them both here, and ordered his food. Couldn’t they at least wait until they told their families first before the rest of Lawrence found out Dean Winchester’s Big Bisexual Secret?

“I just wanted to have dinner with you,” Cas muttered.

Cas’ voice sounded so small, and so utterly heartbroken, that Dean suddenly realized what a huge jackass he was being. Cas was right; who cared if a bunch of strangers he’d never see again saw him out in public with such a wonderful, vibrant, smart, passionate man? They should all be jealous of Dean.

“You’re right, Cas. I’m sorry. I’m being a dick. Forgive me?” Dean tentatively reached his hand over the table and Cas took it.

And now they were holding hands. On top of the table. In public. Where everyone could see.

And the world didn’t seem to be ending.

Dean caught Cas’ eye and threw him a wink. “So, about this sex swing…”

 

 

_Thursday, 2:12 p.m._

“Hey, Cas. Got you something,” Dean announced as he returned from his lumber-buying errand.

“You got me a present? From Home Depot?”

“Yeah. Here you go.” Dean tossed the item in Cas’ general direction.

Cas caught it with his cupped hands, unable to do anything but stare at it with his mouth agape.

“You do know how to use one of those, don’t you?” Dean asked, barely hiding his smirk.

“It’s a key,” Cas declared uselessly.

“Yeah.”

“To your house?”

“Yeah.”

Cas jumped up from the sofa, pulling Dean into a bruising kiss. They eventually made their way back to the sofa, the key momentarily forgotten amongst items of discarded clothing and soft moans of pleasure.

 

 

_Friday, 11:04 a.m._

Cas brought his laptop to the backyard and settled into one of the Adirondack chairs on Dean’s porch. It was a beautiful day, not unbearably hot, and he could just as easily research his spring field trip out here where the view was better.

He tried to focus on his research, he really did. But that view.

Dean had brought his work bench out from the shop into the yard, since there wasn’t much of a breeze in the un-insulated, un-air-conditioned room. Cas watched as Dean mopped his forehead with the hem of his shirt, revealing a strip of chiseled abdomen.

Then Dean glanced at his t-shirt, brow furrowed in thought, and removed the offending garment in one fluid motion.

Cas felt his mouth go dry.

How in the hell was he supposed to concentrate now, what with Dean standing there all tanned and glistening with sweat, nailing boards together and wearing a goddamn tool belt like he was Mr. June from the Hot Carpenters of Lawrence monthly calendar?

Cas suddenly had visions of Dean fucking him raw over that work bench. Wearing nothing but that tool belt.

Sure, they hadn’t taken _that_ particular step yet, but it didn’t stop the fantasy from barreling in like a freight train.

He tried to turn his gaze back to the computer, his pants now impossibly tight and distracting, but his eyes were once again drawn to the hot carpenter who now –  _holy fucking shit_ – has grabbed his water bottle and proceeded to douse himself, slowly and tantalizingly rubbing water droplets all over his chest.

Then he looked up at Cas, and fucking _winked_.

_Oh, HELL no._

_Two can play at that game_ , Cas decided. He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out his reading glasses, and calmly turned back toward the computer screen.

Dean didn’t last five minutes.

 

 

_Tuesday, 9:21 a.m._

“I’m ready for Naked Day,” Cas announced as he let Dean in.

This time, however, Dean burst out laughing. “Yes you are, Naked Boy. Now go get dressed. We’re going out. Got a surprise for you.”

“Surprise?”

“Yep. And bring your camera!” Dean called out as Cas retreated toward the bedroom.

Thirty minutes later, Cas’ face frowned in confusion as the car reached its destination. “The Arboretum? Dean, what are we doing here? Forgive me, but you don’t really seem like a huge nature-lover.”

“Hey! I take Ben camping every summer. I love nature!”

“Dean, you do realize that we’ll pretty much just be looking at flowers here?”

Dean ignored Cas’ jibe and took a deep breath, gathering his courage. He really hoped Cas wouldn’t be mad at him for pushing this. “Look, I couldn’t stop thinking about those pictures. You know, the ones Anna gave you for Christmas. The ones you took, on your trips with Balthazar. I thought, this place is nice, you know, with the trails and the waterfalls and stuff, and I thought you could take some pictures here. Maybe get back into photography.”

Cas just stared back at him, apparently too stunned to speak.

“It’s just, you’re good, Cas. Those pictures. You’re really good. And I don’t want you to stop doing something that you’re good at just because some jerk was too blind to see that.”

“Dean,” Cas breathed.

“What? Bad idea?”

“No,” Cas laughed, pulling Dean in for a kiss. “It’s a great idea.”

As they walked the trails, Cas’ fingers intertwined with Dean’s, Cas’ eyes soaking in every minute detail though his camera’s lens, a mixture of utter fascination and sheer contentment on his face, Dean started to think that maybe this kind of nature wasn’t so bad either.

 

 

_Thursday, 8:24 p.m._

“Honestly? I have no idea, Cas. How do you think we should tell ‘em?” Dean asked as he wrapped his arm around Cas, the Dr. Sexy rerun momentarily forgotten.

“With my family, it’s probably better just to get everyone in a room all at once. It’ll likely be twice as painful to endure, what with all the teasing they’ll be sure to give me and the third degree they’ll give you, but at least it’ll be over quickly.”

“Yeah, I’ve always been more of a rip-the-Band-aid kind of guy anyway.”

“What about your family? We could invite Sam and Sarah over at the same time, knock out both sides of the family in one fell swoop.”

“I don’t know, Cas. I mean, with your family, at least they’ll be expecting you to meet a guy and bring him over eventually. With mine, I’ll basically be coming out _and_ introducing my boyfriend. That’s a lot of new information, you know? You throw Gabe in the mix, and they may never speak to me again.”

“I seriously doubt that, Dean.” Cas pulled out of Dean’s grasp and lay down, his head on Dean’s lap. He toyed with the fabric of Dean’s jeans as he continued; Dean was wearing one of his softer pair, the knees worn thin from years of use. “Your family loves you. They want you to be happy.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’ve never met ‘em.”

Cas turned over onto his back, looking up at Dean. “Do you seriously think Sam and Sarah will disown you for dating a man?”

Dean reached down and grabbed Cas’ hand, intertwining their fingers. “No. But that doesn’t make this any easier.”

“How about we do them one at a time, then? I’ll meet Ben first, since he already knows anyway. And I’ve met Blake, so we could do her and Sarah next, maybe invite them to lunch during the week. Or, you know, we could go to the zoo; that would be a nice distraction. Then last we could tell Sam. Maybe at the Roadhouse after we’ve gotten a few beers in him. You did say Sam’s usually a happy drunk, right?”

Dean squeezed Cas’ fingers, smiling down at him. “Truly, you have a dizzying intellect.”

Cas reached up with his free hand and pulled Dean’s head down toward his own. “Wait ‘til I get going…”

 

 

_Saturday, 9:25 a.m._

“This basket looks like a nineteen-year-old frat boy did all the shopping,” Cas frowned. “You do know that the four food groups aren’t bacon, beer, burgers and pie, right?”

“Too bad, ‘cause then we’d have a pretty well rounded meal here, don’t you think?” Dean eyed the item Cas had in his hand with suspicion. “What the hell is that?”

“I thought it would save us some time if we bought the burgers already made.”

Dean held up his hand, his face twisted with something halfway between disgust and disbelief. “Are you freaking kidding me right now?”

“Dean, burgers are just ground beef in circle form. Now that step is already done, so we can spend our time doing other things. Like me getting to know Ben.” Cas smiled at Dean as he threw the burger patties in the basket.

Dean promptly removed them and threw them back on the shelf, grabbing a package of ground Angus instead. “Cas, you have so much to learn,” he replied, shaking his head.

“Well, then,” Cas growled, grabbing Dean by the hips and pulling him closer. “Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.”

“I’m not Obi Wan,” Dean scoffed, toying with the waistband of Castiel’s jeans. “ _You’re_ Obi Wan.”

“No, _I’m_ Luke Skywalker. I’m all sweet and innocent on the outside,” he murmured, trailing his fingers up Dean’s abdomen, “and ruthless warrior who’ll be the death of you on the inside.”

“Nah, not buying it,” Dean mused, cocking his head. “Maybe you’re Leia, huh?”

Cas leaned in, bringing his lips closer to Dean’s. “I _do_ have a thing for scruffy-looking nerf herders.”

“I know,” Dean murmured in return, closing the gap between their mouths. Who cared if they were in the middle of the meat aisle at the supermarket?

They never quite reached their destination, however, as they were suddenly interrupted by a squirming child wriggling her way between them. “Cas!” she squealed. “Look, mommy, it’s Cas! And Unca Dean!”

Dean winced as the implication of those words sunk in, and slowly turned around, forcing a smile. “Hey, Sarah.”

“Dean.” Sarah probably tried to keep her eyebrows from hitting her forehead, but she failed miserably. “Are Blake and I interrupting something?”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas tell the families. Dean comes clean to Sam about a few other things as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your amazing comments and kudos! You have really kept me going during this process. I have been plagued by a nasty case of writer's block as I attempt to wrap up the last few chapters, and I can honestly say that if it weren't for you guys I would've probably quit working on this story a while ago. So thank you for keeping me inspired!

“Are Blake and I interrupting something?”

Fuck. Dean felt his heart leap out of his chest and into his throat. This is not how he wanted Sarah to find out. This isn’t how he wanted _any_ of them to find out.

“Dean.” Cas broke the tension, clearing his throat. “It appears we forgot to get ketchup. Blake, would you like to help me? I don’t know if I can find it on my own.” Cas held out his hand and Blake took it, chattering away about her upcoming princess birthday party as the two retreated. Dean threw Cas a thank-you-I-love-you-I’ll-make-this-up-to-you-later look and Cas returned it with a yes-I-know-what-would-you-do-without-me smile.

“So,” Sarah remarked, still a little wide-eyed.

“Jesus, Sarah. I was gonna tell you guys. I didn’t want you finding out like this.”

“Finding out what, exactly? I’m not sure what you’re referring to.” And now she was smirking at him. She was really gonna make him say it, wasn’t she?

Dean scrubbed a hand across his face, willing his cheeks to stop reddening as he was completely sure they were doing right now. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“I know. Now spill.”

“Cas and I are dating, okay? About a month now. Happy?”

Sarah took a long look at him, trying to discern something in Dean’s features that he couldn’t quite figure out. When she spoke at last, it was quiet, serious. “Are you?”

Dean thought about Cas, about all those little moments they had shared over the past month. Hell, the past _six_ months. “Yeah, I’m happy.”

“Then I’m happy for you.” Sarah reached over and pulled Dean in for a hug.

Wait, that was it? No prying questions, no yelling, no Dean-how-could-you? “You’re really okay with me dating a guy?” Dean asked as he pulled away.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll admit, you with another man is not what I would’ve expected. But come on, I’ve seen the way your face lights up when you talk about him. _And_ he’s gorgeous. So, I guess there’s an exception to every rule, huh? Looks like you got lucky and found a good one.”

Yeah, Cas may be the exception to just about _every_ rule Dean had ever held dear, especially since the divorce. But no way was Dean gonna tell Sarah right here and now that Cas wasn’t the only exception to the particular rule she was referring to. Or, more to the point, that there never really was a rule to begin with. That was not a discussion for the meat aisle of the grocery store amidst the free samples.

Dean simply smiled. “Yeah, I did.”

“So, are you gonna tell Sam?”

“Yeah, of course. Eventually.” Dean had no idea when they’d do it now. This kinda threw a wrench in the plan he and Cas had so carefully crafted. “We were gonna have him meet Ben tonight, then you and Blake later this week, like take you to the zoo or something, then maybe take Sammy out Friday night and get him drunk first. But now, I don’t know. This kinda messed up our plan.”

“Dean, look.” Sarah laid a hand on his arm and squeezed. “I know this has to be hard. I can’t even imagine how nervous you must be. But believe me when I tell you, Sam will always love you no matter what, and I’m sure he’ll give you and Cas his blessing. You won’t need to get him drunk first.”

“Okay, what about me, then?”

Sarah laughed. “Look, why don’t you and Cas and Ben come over Sunday for dinner? Cas and I can keep the kids occupied while you and Sam talk.”

“I don’t know. With the kids there and everything, don’t you think it’ll feel like an ambush?”

“It won’t. I promise. Tell you what, I’ll go home and butter him up, tell him I met your new squeeze and that you’re incredibly happy and can’t wait for the two of them to meet. I can keep it gender-neutral, and if he asks anything more specific I’ll just tell him to wait until Sunday, okay?”

Dean took a deep breath, thinking it over. Suddenly this all seemed to be happening way faster than what he’d anticipated. “Okay, fine. But under no circumstances are you to use the word ‘squeeze’ when referring to Cas. Got it?”

“Got it,” Sarah giggled. “Okay, so tell me about him!”

“Come on, Sarah, you want me to gush over ‘my boyfriend Cas’ like some chick?”

“Cas, you Unca Dean’s boy’fend?” Blake piped up. Dean hadn’t even noticed when she and Cas had returned but there they were, the little tyke sitting on Cas’ shoulders clutching a bottle of ketchup that was at least as tall as her. Dean wondered how many times Cas had been hit in the head with it between here and the condiment aisle, and he couldn’t help the goofy grin that he knew he must now be sporting.

“Yeah, Blake. He is,” Dean answered. “Is that okay?”

“Mommy, can Unca Cas come to my birf’day party?”

“Of course he can, baby. He’s family.” Sarah reached up and held out her arms for Blake, who climbed off Cas’ shoulders and, sure enough, hit Cas in the head with the ketchup bottle on her way down. “Now why don’t we leave poor Cas alone so he and Uncle Dean can finish their shopping?”

“But Mommy! Unca Cas gonna take me to ride the pony! I was good and every’fing!”

Cas threw an apologetic glance at Sarah. “I told her that if she behaved while we got the ketchup then I’d take her to ride the carrousel out front.”

“Did you really tell her that all on your own, Cas?” Sarah narrowed her eyes in suspicion at Cas, then at her daughter. “Or did _you_ beg him as soon as you guys were out of earshot?”

Blake shook her head innocently and pointed at Cas. “No, mommy. Unca Cas said.”

“Now you’re throwing me under the bus?” Cas feigned offense at Blake. “I thought we had a deal!”

Sarah chuckled, ruffling Blake’s hair. “Sorry, sweetie. We’ll ride the pony next time, okay?”

“Okay.” Cas crossed his arms and pouted, causing Blake to dissolve into giggles.

“You’re not sweetie. I’m sweetie!” Blake pointed proudly at herself.

“Are you sure?” Cas asked her.

“Uh-huh,” she insisted.

“Okay,” Sarah interrupted. “We really do have to finish our shopping. Say goodbye to Uncle Dean and Uncle Cas.”

Blake leaned in and gave Cas a kiss on the cheek first. Just like that, she had accepted him into the family.

Well, both of them had.

Sarah gave Cas a big hug, whispering something in his ear that made him simultaneously blush and grin from ear to ear.

“Hey, hey,” Dean scolded. “You two conspiring against me?”

Sarah turned to Dean and gave him a hug goodbye as well. “I like him,” she whispered. “Good work, Dean.”

Cas tossed the ketchup bottle into the cart as Sarah and Blake departed. “That seemed to go pretty well, huh?”

“Dude, she loved you!” Dean wrapped an arm around Cas’ waist and gave him a peck on the lips.

“See? I told you. You have nothing to worry about.” Cas grabbed Dean by the belt loops and pulled him closer. “Of course she was gonna love me. You are dating the perfect man, after all.”

Dean released him with a fake slap across the hip. “Yeah, yeah. Lucky me.”

Cas chuckled as he grabbed the handle of the cart and began steering it toward the front of the store. “So, one down, three more to go?”

“Yeah, about that. How would you feel about meeting Sam this weekend instead?”

Cas startled. “Are you really ready for that?”

“No, but Sarah invited us to dinner Sunday. Might as well go ahead and get it over with.”

Cas stopped. “Dean, if you don’t want to, we don’t have to go,” he said softly.

“I want to, I do. I don’t want to feel like I gotta hide this anymore. But it’s not just about introducing you, you know? I have to tell him the other stuff, too.”

“You mean Matt.” Cas nodded in understanding.

“Yeah. That, and…” Dean blew out a breath. Even saying the words to Cas was still uncomfortable, and Cas already knew. “And, that night. You know. Sam deserves to know the truth. The _whole_ truth.”

Cas placed his hand in the crook of Dean’s neck, threading his fingers through the fine hairs at the back of Dean’s head. How Cas always knew exactly what to do to make him feel better, Dean would never know. “Sam loves you. I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he murmured.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean managed to whisper in return.

And as Dean followed his boyfriend to the checkout, he couldn’t help but think that Sarah had nailed it. He _had_ found a good one.

How he had managed to deserve it, though, was a mystery for the ages.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, so everybody clear on the plan tonight?” Dean asked as he pulled the Impala to a stop in front of his brother’s house. 

“Yes, Dad,” Ben groaned. “For the millionth time, we know.”

Cas placed a hand on Dean’s knee, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles. “Dean, it’ll be fine. We don’t need a backup plan. Sam is _not_ going to disown you.”

“Yeah, Dad. Cas is great. Uncle Sam’s gonna love him.”

That’s not what Dean was worried about; of course Sam was gonna love Cas. Everybody apparently loved Cas. Ben became a convert the moment he discovered Cas was a history teacher, and spent the rest of the weekend bugging Cas for World War 2 stories.

They’d already made plans for a Band of Brothers marathon the following weekend.

Sarah had texted Dean earlier that Sam was all excited about meeting his new “squeeze,” though (and he _really_ hoped she was just joking about having used that word). He guessed they’d know as soon as Sam opened the door whether they’d be having a nice dinner or leaving and heading home.

With one last glance at Cas, gathering his courage from the bottomless love and support and affection in those blue eyes, Dean turned off the car and started toward the door. He motioned for Cas to stand beside him as he rang the bell, and at the last moment, as he heard Sam’s giant footsteps bounding toward the door, Dean took Cas’ hand in his, threading their fingers together.

“Dean,” Sam greeted as he opened the door. His smile turned to confusion, though, as his eyes fell first on Cas, then on Dean and Cas’ clasped hands. “Dean?”

“Sammy.” Dean stopped, clearing his throat. “Sam, this is Cas. My, um, my boyfriend.”

There was one, maybe two tense moments during which Dean was absolutely convinced Sam was gonna slam the door in their faces. But Sam’s smile returned, and he opened the door wider. “Cas, it’s nice to finally meet you,” he beamed, pulling Cas in for a hug. “I’ve heard so much about you from Dean over the last few months, I was wondering if I’d ever get to put a face with the name.”

“It’s good to meet you, too, Sam,” Cas replied. “Dean speaks very highly of you as well.”

“Unca Cas!” Blake came running up, jumping into Cas’ arms. “I din’t know you were coming!”

“Well, I felt badly that we didn’t get to ride the pony yesterday, so I thought maybe you could play horsie with me. Does that sound okay?”

“Uh-huh!” Blake nodded enthusiastically.

“And guess who else came to play with us?” Cas cocked his head toward the doorway, Blake straining to see.

“Ben!” Blake wriggled out of Cas’ arms and grabbed Ben’s hand, pulling him inside. “Less go play! Come on!” The pair started toward Blake’s bedroom, when Blake suddenly turned back and waved once more. “Come on, Unca Cas! Less go!”

Sam threw a smirk at his brother, now alone in the doorway. “Looks like you’ve been replaced as the favorite uncle.”

Dean shook his head. “Yeah, well, he probably cheated.”

Sam laughed. “Come on in. You want a beer?”

“Absolutely,” Dean nodded. He had a feeling he’d need it for the rest of this discussion.

Sam pulled two beers out of the fridge and handed one to Dean. “So, you and Cas, huh?”

“Yeah. Me and Cas.” Dean took a swig. And by “swig,” he meant “half the bottle.”

“How long?”

“About a month.” He set his bottle down and wiped a stray droplet from his lips. “Are you okay with that?”

“Dean, I only just met him. But Blake seems to love him, and I trust that she’s a good judge of character.”

“Seriously? You’re letting a 3-year old decide your feelings on my relationship?”

Sam sat down and eyed Dean carefully. “He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, he does,” Dean replied softly. “I love him, Sammy.”

“Well, then, you’ve got my blessing.”

That was, just, wow. Dean did not expect that part of the conversation to go that smoothly. “This really doesn’t bother you?”

“Okay, I mean, yeah, it’s a little weird. You’ve only ever dated women before. But if he makes you happy, then, no. It doesn’t bother me.”

And there it was. _You’ve only ever dated women before_. The part of the conversation he’d really been dreading. “That’s not exactly true, Sammy.”

“What’s not exactly true? He doesn’t make you happy?”

“No, the part about me only ever dating women before.” _Deep breath. Here we go._ “Look, I gotta tell you something.”

“Okay…”

“You remember back in high school when I broke my arm?”

Sam’s brow was still furrowed in bewilderment. “Dean, why are you bringing that up now?”

“It’s important. You remember, don’t you? Me breaking my arm?”

Sam didn’t say anything for a long moment. “No, Dean. I don’t.” Sam’s voice was serious, stern.

“You don’t remember that?” Dean was confused; Sam had been the one who called Ellen to take him to the emergency room, and now he was saying he didn’t even remember?

Sam huffed. “No, I don’t remember _you_ breaking your arm. I remember Dad beating you to within an inch of your life for no reason and _him_ breaking your arm. I remember him throwing you against the night stand so hard it shattered and we cleaned up splinters for a month. I remember him giving you a black eye and you seeing double for weeks. I remember you bleeding so badly you needed to go to the emergency room and get stitches. That’s what I remember, Dean.”

“Okay, Sam. I get it.”

“No, Dean you don’t. Look, I don’t know why you’re bringing this up now, but I’ve watched you beat yourself up over this for years, like it was your fault. But _he’s_ the one who did that to you, for no reason whatsoever. You did not bring that on yourself.”

Dean winced at his brother’s words. They had never talked about this, not since that night. Not like this, anyway. Over the years it just became “that time I broke my arm” whenever it came up in conversation, which Dean always tried to make sure didn’t happen. To hear Sam talk about it out loud now, in such frank terms, was a little unnerving. But Dean had to find a way to get through this. Sam deserved to know, once and for all.

“It wasn’t for no reason, Sammy.”

Now Sam looked confused again, but he kept quiet and just looked at his brother with those damn puppy dog eyes of his, waiting for Dean to continue in his own time. Dean knew he needed to get it out, but this was a huge weight to let go of. He had told Cas, sure, but this was different.

This was Sam.

Sam knew how much this incident had damaged Dean, and not just on the outside. It was bad enough that their dad had more or less disowned Dean that day, but Dean couldn’t bear to hear those same words come from Sam’s mouth as well. So Sam never knew why, never knew the reason why he’d had to pull his dad off Dean, why their dad had refused to talk to or even look at Dean for the better part of a year. Dean had kept that to himself all this time.

“You remember that guy Matt I used to hang out with? Well, he and I were sort of seeing each other. And Dad caught us in my room, kissing. That’s why he, you know.” Dean took a deep breath, gathering his courage to get the rest of this out. He’d been holding onto it for far too long. “That’s why Dad beat the shit out of me, okay? For kissing a guy.”

“Jesus, Dean.” Dean looked up and saw that Sam actually had tears in his eyes. “ _That’s_ why? Because you were kissing your boyfriend?” Suddenly Sam was practically in his lap and hugging him. “I’m so sorry, Dean. Geez, if I’d only known...”

“Stop it, Sam. Just stop it. This wasn’t your fault. You were twelve, for Chrissakes.”

“You know how many times I’ve thought about that night, thought if I had just left Grant’s house a little earlier, if I had just decided to study at home, if I hadn’t been so selfish and wanted to get away from Dad for a few hours…”

“Sam, stop it. It wasn’t your fault. Hell, if it hadn’t been for you, who knows what would’ve happened? If you hadn’t walked in when you did, or if you hadn’t called Ellen? I mean, Jesus, Sam. I fucked up, and you saved me. And you’ve been taking care of me, cleaning up my shit ever since. But you didn’t do this. It wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”

“Will you listen to yourself, Dean? This wasn’t your fault either! You didn’t do anything wrong. Dad did this. He was still so fucked up over losing Mom that he couldn’t stand to see anyone else happy! And I’m not blind; I saw how he ignored you after that. He didn’t speak to you, or even look at you, for months.”

“A year,” Dean muttered. “It was a year.”

“See what I mean? What kind of a father does that to his own child? There was no way you brought that on yourself.” Sam was silent for a long time, giving Dean a chance to let those words sink in. “And you’re wrong, you know. About me taking care of you. You’re wrong.”

Now it was Dean’s turn to be thoroughly confused.

Sam had _always_ been the one to take care of Dean, even before that night.

Sam had continually helped Dean with homework all through high school; even though Sam was younger and several grades behind Dean he always seemed to understand that stuff and explain it to Dean better than any of the teachers ever could.

And then Ben came along. Sam babysat him almost every weekend during his own senior year, when he should’ve been out with his friends getting drunk and having fun.

When Dean was in electrician school Sam had even helped Dean study then too; Sam probably knew almost as much about wiring now as his brother did. And when he was home on break from Stanford he always watched Ben so Dean & Lisa could have a night out occasionally.

When their dad had died it was Sam who made all the funeral arrangements because he knew Dean couldn’t bear to. And there’s no telling how much time Sam had given to Dean’s divorce case, and he had never asked for a dime.

Sam has always been the one looking after Dean.

“You’re wrong, Dean. You’re the one who always took care of me. You’re the one who made me breakfast every day, got me to school on time, made sure I had my lunch money, picked me up from soccer practice, you came to every stupid school play I was in, helped me with my college applications, hell, you were the one who told me to apply to Stanford.” Sam paused, his voice cracking. “You were there for me when Jess died. If it hadn’t been for you, I never would’ve gone to law school, and I never would’ve met Sarah. I owe you my life, Dean. I’ve spent my entire life trying to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me.”

Dean just sat there, not really sure how to reply, because really, what do you say to that?

“Dean, I know we don’t say this too often, but I love you. I always will, no matter what. And if Cas is who makes you happy, then I’m going to support that, no questions asked.”

“Thanks,” Dean whispered. “That means a lot.”

“Okay, I think that’s enough chick-flick moments for one night, don’t you?” Sam stood up and tossed his empty beer bottle into the recycle bin. “You want another while I’m up?”

“Now you’re talking.” Dean downed the last little bit out of his bottle before switching it out for the fresh one Sam handed him.

“So, tell me more about Cas. All I know so far is that he likes princess movies and has a picture of a dog on his phone.”

“That’s pretty much it,” Cas announced as he walked in carrying a giggling, squirming Blake upside-down. “Dean has _very_ specific requirements when it comes to relationships.”

Sam laughed. Dean groaned. This was gonna be a long night.

 

* * *

 

Cas was some supremely uncomfortable mix of nervous and excited about dinner with his siblings tonight. He wished now, with the wisdom of hindsight, that they’d just gone ahead and had the whole thing at Dean’s house instead of his own.

He hadn’t realized until tonight just how much more at home he felt at Dean’s place.

Cas was putting the finishing touches on the entrée when the doorbell rang. “You want to get that, Dean? Or you want me to?”

“I got it, babe.” Dean gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I survived Sammy; I think I can handle Gabe and Anna.”

“You’re a brave man, Dean.” Cas sprinkled one last pinch of seasoning on the salmon and brought it to the table just as Dean opened the door.

“Anna?” Dean held out his hand. “Hey, I’m Dean. Nice to meet you.”

“Dean? Dammit,” Anna grumbled as she took Dean’s hand and shook it.

“Anna?!” Cas spluttered. “What the hell?”

“I’m sorry.” Anna laughed and pulled a bewildered Dean in for a hug. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…”

“What?” Cas demanded.

“I owe Gabe 20 bucks.”


	25. Chapter 25

“I hate that you’ve been so busy this week.” Cas had his limbs wrapped around Dean a little tighter than necessary, considering they were both totally naked and sweaty and still in the post-orgasmic recovery phase, but Dean didn’t mind one bit. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. But this is a really big job; I can’t afford to slack off just because I’d rather be spending time with you.” Dean stroked his fingers along Cas’ back in that way he knew Cas liked. “And Victor had another job lined up this week, so it’s taking me a little longer doing everything myself.”

“Hmm. If only you knew someone who was extremely handy with a hammer, who could help you out during these busy spells…”

Dean chuckled. “Are you suggesting I hire you?”

“Well, I do have over a week’s worth of experience in installing insulation, drywall, and hardwood flooring,” Cas mused.

“You really think we’d get anything done if I brought you along?”

“We did work together once before. It seemed to go pretty well.”

Dean mulled it over for a moment. Cas actually had a point, except for one tiny detail. “You’re forgetting that you hadn’t seen me naked back then.”

Cas smiled against Dean’s chest. “I promise I will endeavor to control myself.”

“Okay, then. You’re hired.”

“Does that mean I get a tool belt?”

“Don’t push your luck,” Dean laughed. “Besides, with you in a tool belt, _I_ may not be able to control _my_ self.”

Cas was quiet at that, but there must’ve been something pretty kinky floating through his head, because Dean could suddenly feel Cas’ cock hardening against his thigh. “Hey, Cas. You got some ideas you wish to share with the class, there, buddy?”

“It was just, um, a thought I had. A fantasy,” Cas murmured, suddenly shy.

“Do I get to hear it?” Dean was intrigued; Cas had never really mentioned any fantasies before.

“Well, it involved you, and a tool belt, and your work bench…”

Dean rolled Cas over onto his back. “Mmm. I like where this is headed.” He slid down Cas’ body until his mouth hovered directly over Cas’ now gloriously hard erection.

“Dean,” Cas whispered in anticipation. “Please.”

“Tell me more about what you’re gonna do to me on that work bench,” Dean growled as he took Cas into his mouth.

“ _Jesus!_ ” Cas exclaimed, his breath coming in short gasps now as Dean worked his mouth along Cas’ erection. “It’s not me doing the… the… the doing. It’s you… doing… me.”

Dean pulled off. “You’ll have to be more specific, or I’ll have to stop.”

“Christ, you’re going to kill me.” Cas let his head drop back onto the pillow as Dean resumed his ministrations. “You’re working outside. In the back yard. Getting all hot and sweaty. And you take your shirt off. Just like that day. When I was sitting on the porch. With my laptop.”

Dean licked a long slow stripe along Cas’ length, flicking his tongue along the sensitive frenulum. “Mmm. You looked so hot in your glasses,” he murmured, wrapping his lips once again around Cas’ cock.

“Then you take your jeans off. Because you’re all sweaty. And dirty from the sawdust. And then you take off your boxers. And you’re standing there in just your tool belt. And nothing else.”

Dean worked his mouth a little faster. Fuck, this was hot, hearing Cas talk like this.

“Then you bend me over the workbench, and fuck me raw. Wearing nothing but that tool belt.”

Dean moaned around Cas’ cock, reaching down with his other hand to stroke himself while he worked Cas into a frenzy. “Fuck, Cas. So hot.”

“Fuck, Dean. I want you. I want to feel every inch of you inside me. I want you to fuck me. Oh, God, I want you to fuck me,” he breathed.

Holy shit. Dean was now impossibly hard hearing Cas talk like this, feeling Cas come apart beneath him, and wanted nothing more to give Cas exactly what he wanted.

But not yet.

They hadn’t taken that particular step yet, nor had either one of them even mentioned that particular step to the other, until just then. And no way was Dean gonna take it now, in a rushed quickie before he had to leave for work.

But he could give Cas a little something, a tease of things to come. Dean brought his other hand up from where it was working his own cock and circled a finger around Cas’ entrance.

“Dean. Please. Please,” Cas moaned.

Dean slowly slipped a finger inside, crooking it upwards toward Cas’ prostate, and Cas howled as he came. Jesus, fuck, Dean had never heard Cas scream like that. His own orgasm ripped through his body at lightning speed.

As they both came down from their high Dean gingerly pulled his finger free and collapsed next to Cas. “So, can you start tomorrow?”

“So I’m hired?” Cas panted.

“Of course.”

“You know, I certainly hope that wasn’t part of Victor’s interview.”

Dean flashed Cas a grin. “Nah, his interview was a little less… oral.”

Cas just laughed as he lay his head back on the pillow and basked in the afterglow.

“Hey, um, about your fantasy,” Dean spoke after a moment. Cas _had_ sort of brought it up, and now Dean was curious. Not necessarily ready for it, per se, but definitely curious. “Is that something you really want?”

“What, sex outdoors where your neighbors can see?”

“No. I mean, You really thought about us? About me? Um…” Yeah, he definitely wasn’t ready for it if he couldn’t even bring himself to say it. He wanted to, really he did, but that was an awfully big step, one he knew absolutely nothing about. He definitely needed to do a little more research, like, um, how-to, and what kind of lube to get. Can you even buy that stuff at a regular grocery store? And holy shit, what if he ran into Sarah while he had a cart full of condoms and anal lube?

“You’re freaking out, aren’t you? Dean, we don’t have to.”

“No! It’s not that. I want to. I just. I never have, you know?”

“Well, I have.” Cas rolled back over, draping his arm over Dean’s abdomen and burying his face in the crook of Dean’s neck. “And I can show you everything you need to know. When you’re ready.”

“Okay.”

They lay there in silence, neither one ready to leave the warmth of the bed or the other’s arms just yet. This morning was just so fucking awesome; Dean wished he didn’t have to get up and go to work just yet.

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you today?” Cas asked. “I’ll be happy to cancel my plans with Gabe and help you out.”

“Nah, that’s okay. I got some little stuff I can finish up today without you. You can start tomorrow.”

“And it’s probably a bad time to bring this up, but I’ll need some time off later in July.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“I’d like to take my boyfriend to Boston.”

“Boston? Why?” Dean was confused; Cas hadn’t mentioned this before.

“Every year I take some of the senior students on a field trip to Philadelphia. This year I was thinking we’d go to Boston instead. But I’ve never been, so I thought maybe you and I could go first. You know, just the two of us. Get away for a few days. And scope out the best sights to take the students while we’re at it.”

This was a tough one. On the one hand, Dean had never flown before, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he was absolutely gonna hate it. It just wasn’t natural, you know? Racing through the air miles above the surface of the earth at breakneck speeds? No thank you.

But on the other hand, the thought of seeing Cas in his element, touring sites that dated back to the dawn of our country, eyes all lit up as he explained the history behind everything? Dean was by no means a history person, but if it meant getting to see Cas like that, he was in.

Plus he wanted to see more of Cas’ pictures. Pictures from _their_ vacations. Together.

“Okay,” Dean smiled. “As soon as we get this job wrapped up, we’re going to Boston.”

 

* * *

 

Cas grabbed his and Dean’s bags off the carrousel and joined a rather green-looking and still shaking Dean, who was sipping ginger ale on a nearby bench. “You okay? Think you can handle the subway?”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me,” Dean grumbled as he stood up. “Can’t we just take a cab or something?"

“We could, but it’ll cost more. So as long as if you’re okay with ramen noodles for dinner, it’s fine with me.”

Dean huffed out a weak laugh. “You blackmailing me?”

“Not in the slightest. If you want to spend all of today’s budget on one single ride in the car that’ll probably take twice as long as the train, it’s okay with me,” Cas remarked. “But on a completely unrelated note, I _was_ thinking about taking my boyfriend out for a nice steak and lobster dinner tonight. Just so you know.”

“Hmm. You drive a hard bargain.”

“Hey, I just want you to have all of the facts so you can make an informed decision. But maybe you’re right; you have been quite ill most of the day. Perhaps a nice, quiet microwaveable dinner in the hotel is best.”

“Okay, you win. Which way is the subway, anyway?”

“This way.” Cas picked up his suitcase and cocked his head toward the CharlieCard vending machine. “We have to get our tickets first.”

Dean pulled out his debit card and got two one-week passes. “It’s okay, Cas. I got this. You save your money for that fancy dinner later,” he winked, handing one of the cards to Cas.

“I don’t know,” Cas hedged. “Do you really think you’re up for it? I’ve never seen you throw up that much before.”

“Shut up, asshole.” Dean laughed and shook his head as he threw his bag over his shoulder with one hand and threaded his fingers through Cas’ with the other. “Where to now?”

“Silver Line is this way.”

Cas couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he and Dean rode the first train, which was actually more of a bus than a train, but who cared? He was in Boston. With Dean. Either of those two things alone was pretty amazing, but together, it was almost overwhelming. It had been way too long since he’d been out of Kansas, and there was so much to do and see here. He couldn’t wait to do and see it all with Dean.

Dean bumped his shoulder. “Something you wanna share there, smiley?”

Cas felt his face redden. “I’m just happy, is all. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else, Cas.” Dean smiled right back at him, that smile that still took Cas’ breath away. “So, how much longer ‘til we get to the hotel?”

Cas reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his map. As he unfolded it he heard Dean huff out a laugh next to him. “What?” he asked.

Dean shook his head and laughed. “You and your maps.”

“I just want to make sure I don’t get us lost,” Cas insisted as he studied the locations, making absolutely sure he knew which stops to get off at and which subway connections to make. “I’ve never been the one in charge of all of this stuff before.”

Dean quirked his brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, when Balthazar and I traveled it was usually on one of his business trips, and he would have everything planned out in advance. I was just along for the ride.” Cas cross-referenced the subway map with the street map that he had printed out. “This is my first trip to do all the planning myself.”

“So, like, what did you do while he was working, or whatever?”

“Go sightseeing, take pictures,” Cas shrugged. “Tourist stuff. You know.”

“Alone?” Dean scoffed.

“Not all the time, no. Balthazar usually joined me for dinner.”

“Shit, Cas. I didn’t realize.”

“What?”

“That this is, like, your first real vacation, or whatever. Jesus.” Dean sank back into his seat and blew out a deep breath, his brow furrowed in thought as he pondered Cas’ revelation.

“Dean, it’s no big deal. He had his work, and I still got to see so many things I wouldn’t have otherwise. But it doesn’t matter anymore, okay? It’s in the past.”

Dean suddenly leaned into Cas, growling in his ear. “Well, then, I guess we need to start this vacation off right then, huh? As soon as we get back to the hotel, I can make it up to you. In the shower.”

“I don’t know, Dean. I don’t want to set off your gag reflex again. I mean, that was a pretty impressive amount of upchucking you did this morning.”

“And now I’m a little dehydrated.” Dean waggled his eyebrows. “I need to consume more fluids.”

“Jesus, you sound like Gabriel.” Cas rolled his eyes and playfully pushed Dean away. “Remind me to separate you two at the next family gathering.”

“So, how much longer, anyway?”

Cas consulted his maps again. “Looks like we have a ways to go before we cross the river, then the fourth stop is ours, at South Street. We’ll take the Red Line to Downtown Crossing, then the Orange Line to State Street. From there it’s just a few blocks to the hotel. So, maybe 45 minutes or so?”

“We have to change trains twice?” Dean whined.

“Well, we could just take the Red Line to Park. It’ll be a longer walk that way, but we won’t have to spend as much time on the subway, if you’re worried about getting sick again.”

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, Cas. See how much fun you get to have tonight.”

“I can have plenty of fun, with or without you, you know,” Cas smirked.

“You would do that?”

“Watch me.”

Cas meant it as a joke. Just a tease. But suddenly Dean’s eyes widened, his pupils completely blown. His breathing got shallower. He parted his legs the slightest little bit and shifted his pelvis, and Cas just knew he was trying to adjust his sudden erection.

_So, Dean apparently has a little voyeuristic streak_ , Cas mused. _That’s handy to know._

Yeah, this was shaping up to be quite the vacation.

 

* * *

 

This whole trip was technically Cas’ thing, since it was basically reconnaissance for a future field trip, so he had planned out every last detail of every day to a T. But when he and Dean passed Faneuil Hall on their walk to the hotel, Cas’ afternoon plans went out the window as soon as he saw Dean eyeing the street musician playing in front. It was just a guy with a beat-up acoustic guitar, but Dean’s face lit up like it was Jimmy Page.

“Hey, that’s pretty cool, right?” Dean asked as they passed by, trying but failing to be nonchalant.

“Yeah,” Cas agreed. And if he and Dean hadn’t been carrying suitcases, and hadn’t been traveling since 5:30 that morning, he would’ve stopped right then and there. “Maybe we’ll check it out later, huh? After we check in to our room, though.”

It was hard not to feel guilty at the brief flicker of disappointment that flashed across Dean’s face. In that moment, then, Cas decided that his romantic night out could wait. Instead, tonight was going to be all about Dean.

So after trading blow jobs in the shower and taking a nice long nap on their fancy hotel bed, Cas took Dean back to Faneuil Hall. The musician was long gone, but there was still plenty to do and see there that Dean didn’t seem to mind; in fact, he seemed pretty excited to be there, wrapping his arm around Cas’ shoulders with an affectionate squeeze as they walked inside.

Dean had pretty much gotten over his apprehension about public affection ever since that first time he’d held Cas’ hand at the restaurant. But after Sarah discovered them kissing at the grocery store Cas had begun sensing that apprehension creeping back in, as if Dean were now constantly looking over his shoulder wondering who was going to discover them next. Sure, Sam had given their relationship his blessing, as well as Anna and Gabe; even Ellen and Jo knew now.

But Lisa didn’t.

And although it wasn’t really her business anymore whom her ex-husband dated, the mother of Dean's son didn’t deserve to find out that he had rebounded with another man any other way than from Dean himself. So the past few weeks, Dean had gone back to looking over his shoulder before taking Cas’ hand in public, glancing around to see who might be watching before indulging in a kiss.

Cas understood, he really did. He couldn’t find in it himself to be the slightest bit mad or hurt. After all, he and Dean had only been dating for about two months. He could wait for Dean to deal with this in his own time.

But suddenly, being here in a place where they knew no one; where they’d seen no fewer than three gay couples holding hands in the airport alone; hell, where they were in the very first U.S. state to legalize gay marriage – suddenly Dean wasn’t looking over his shoulder anymore. It was nice, seeing him so carefree, so at-ease, like the weight of all this worry had vanished. Cas wound his arm around Dean’s waist and gave an affectionate squeeze in return as they entered the Hall.

He had really been looking forward to checking the place out for his students, since it was one of the stops along the historic Freedom Trail, a walking tour of 16 historic sites in the city. The building itself had been turned into a visitor’s center, but its meeting room was still used by political figures such as Gov. Romney and President Obama, so it would be a great place to tie in the city’s history with current events. And the nearby shops and restaurants would be perfect to stop for lunch along the trail.

Of course, descriptions on paper rarely compared to seeing the real thing in person.

The place was a wealth of information for planning the field trip, and Cas could’ve spent all afternoon there. After a few minutes it became clear Dean was getting bored, however, so Cas tried not to spend too much time collecting pamphlets and reading up on the history of the site. Instead they wandered through the building perusing the kitschy tourist shops, fingers threaded together, trading innocent kisses in between making fun of the overpriced trinkets and snapping pictures of each other on their cell phones. Cas didn’t even say a word when Dean bought a tiny pink Red Sox t-shirt for Blake for probably twice as much as it was really worth.

They exited the rear of the building and entered Quincy Market just behind, and suddenly Dean was rendered speechless. His eyes lit up like a kid in a candy shop when he saw the long hallway of food vendors, peddling everything from subs to sushi, seafood to sweets, Asian to Italian to Greek to Mexican and everywhere in between, as far as the eye could see. It was a food-lover’s paradise, and from the look on Dean’s face, he was clearly in heaven.

Dean glanced at his watch. 5:30. “That’s not too early to eat, right?”

His voice was so hopeful, so full of childlike excitement, that Cas couldn’t possibly say anything but, “Of course not, Dean.”

Cas had expected to spend the next thirty minutes or so walking up and down the hall while Dean pored over every single shop’s menu trying to find the absolute perfect thing to eat among all the choices. Instead, he hardly gave any of them notice, just barely glancing at the signs as he made a beeline down the row until he spotted Philadelphia Steak & Hoagie, almost at the opposite end of the market. His face broke out into a wide grin. “Now we’re talking,” he declared. “Cas, you want?”

He was almost too adorable to resist when he got like this. Almost.

“I kinda had my eye on something at the other end. You wanna meet back up at the Rotunda and grab us a seat?”

“Actually, I was thinking maybe we could eat outside. Like on the steps out front?”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll meet you out front,” Cas smiled, leaning in to give Dean a quick kiss. Dean not only met him halfway, he wound his arm around Cas’ waist and let his lips linger, just barely grazing Cas’ lower lip with the tip of his tongue before parting.

Yeah, Cas could definitely get used to this.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t want one of these.” Dean moaned around another bite of his hoagie. It was entirely too erotic and he should really quit it _right the fuck now_ before Cas straddled him right here on the front steps. “This is, hands down, the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

“The _best_ thing? Should I be offended?”

Dean threw him a sideways glance. “Okay, it’s a tie.”

“That’s not much better,” Cas laughed. “You forget, though, that I’ve been to Philly pretty much every year since I started teaching. I’ve had my share of authentic cheesesteaks, straight from the source. The point of this trip was to try something new.”

“So, how’s the lobster roll?”

Cas eyed Dean while he chewed, pondering. “Yep. It’s a tie.”

“I’ll take it,” Dean winked. “So, you gonna tell me what you originally had planned for tonight?”

“We were gonna take a walk through the Public Garden, then go north to the Esplanade and watch the sunset on the river, then take the train back down south for a steak and lobster dinner at McCormick & Schmick’s.” Cas shrugged, sighing. “I know, it seems kinda silly now.”

Dean set his empty plate on the step next to him and scooted closer to Cas. “No, it doesn’t. It sounds perfect,” he murmured, combing his fingers through Cas’ hair.

“It does?”

“The sun’s starting to set right now. Can we make it to the river in time, you think?”

“I doubt it. We’d spend the entire time either running or on the subway, and probably miss the whole thing.” Cas sighed, leaning into Dean’s touch. It amazed him that this man could still make his toes tingle with the tiniest of gestures.

“How about another park, then?”

“The Boston Common isn’t too far from here. If we leave now and walk fast, we might be able to catch the tail end of it.”

Dean stood up and held his hand out. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Seriously? Who are you, and what have you done with my boyfriend?” Cas took Dean’s hand and led them west toward the Common, still not quite sure why Dean was so insistent.

Dean shrugged. “I feel bad I ruined your day by getting sick. We can at least salvage one thing on your list, right?”

“Dean, I know I teased you all afternoon, but you couldn’t help getting sick. Really, we can wait and do this another day.”

“Nah. We’re going.”

Seven minutes later, with the sun sinking low on the horizon, Dean and Cas came in view of the green expanse of lawn. Dean took over the navigating, leading them across Tremont Street and through the walkways of the Common with the same single-mindedness he showed in finding the perfect dinner spot, eventually stopping on a small hill just past the Frog Pond. “How’s this?”

“It’s perfect.” Cas sat down and leaned into Dean, laying his head on Dean’s shoulder as he watched the swirl of colors across the western Boston sky.

“Wait a second.” Dean raised up into a squat and sat back down with one leg on either side of Cas’ body, wrapping Cas in his arms, placing a soft kiss against the back of Cas’ neck. “Now it’s perfect.”

Cas sank down against Dean’s body, feeling the warmth and strength of this man that he sometimes still couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to be with. Yeah, so maybe they were a rather unconventional pair, considering all that had happened before they’d gotten together, but Cas had to admit.

This _was_ pretty damn near perfect, wasn’t it?

“Yes,” he sighed, laying his arms across Dean’s and threading their fingers together. “It is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who lives in Boston, please let me know if I got any details wrong. I haven't been in several years, so I did as much research online as I could.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional tags added. I don't want to spoil anything, but well... you can see for yourself.

“Dean, did you know that Paul Revere built the dome of this building?” Cas’ eyes were lit with this childlike glee as he read the description of the Massachusetts State House in his little travel book. He looked so excited, like he was 7 years old and just met Captain America.

Okay, maybe not so much a 7-year-old as a really hot professor-type who just discovered some long-lost ancient artifact. Regardless, Dean had never quite seen him like this before, in full-on teacher mode.

He definitely liked it.

And it was definitely driving him crazy.

The pants-tightening kind of crazy.

Because after two whole weeks of working side by side with Cas on his latest job, fighting not to get a hard-on every time Cas picked up a hammer (‘cause let’s face it, Cas with a hammer was _really_ fucking hot), he could now barely think straight anymore. Every time Dean turned around and picked up a power tool, or even looked at Cas in that tight pair of jeans he’d taken to wearing to the work site, there was one more reminder of that tool-belt-and-workbench fantasy.

Or, more specifically, that Dean-fucking-Cas fantasy, which Dean could now not stop fucking thinking about.

He knew Cas had been wanting it for a while. He could sense it, just on the tip of Cas’ tongue ready to be voiced in the middle of some of their more intimate moments, but Cas was either too shy or scared to say anything out loud. That was, until he finally spilled that damn fantasy.

Maybe Cas hadn’t been ready yet. Maybe it was just too much of a reminder of the last man he’d been with; after all, Balthazar had been his first, his only.

Until Dean.

Well, Dean _was_ ready. It had been a long, hard (so to speak) road to figure it out, but he was ready. Problem was, between working on the remodel and planning the trip, there hadn’t been a good time to bring it up, much less do anything about it. Dean was ready to be with Cas, in every way, and his balls were getting bluer every minute that he wasn’t.

And now, here in Boston, Cas was like this walking wet dream, straight out of Dean’s wildest jerk-off fantasy. He was like Professor fucking Indiana Jones, with his glasses and his stubble and his goddamn sex hair and that ratty old canvas bag slung over one shoulder.

All he needed now was one of Dean's leather jackets. And maybe a brown fedora and a whip.

Cas had no idea what he was doing to Dean. Or, more specifically, Dean’s dick.

“Paul Revere – wasn’t he some famous Army guy?” Dean tried his best to get his mind back on topic.

“He was, when he was younger. But after the Revolutionary War he became a metal worker. His company covered the dome of this building with copper when the original wooden one started to leak. Isn’t that incredible?”

“Yeah. Pretty cool.”

“No, Dean, it’s more than that! This is a building that is still in use today by the Massachusetts state government, and its roof was built by one of our country’s forefathers! Can you imagine something you built still being around over 200 years later? Do you know how rare that is in our country?”

“Well, when you put it like that, yeah. It is pretty amazing, I guess.” Dean was still less than impressed, but he did love to watch Cas get all excited about something.

“Dean, I don’t think you understand just how far-reaching this man’s influence is. I mean, his company is still in business today!”

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought there’d be much of a call for copper-covered roofs these days.”

Cas flashed his patented Dean-you’re-an-idiot look. “Dean, come on. Revere Ware? You know your favorite copper-bottom pots that you always cook with?”

“Wait, Revere Ware is _Paul_ Revere? No friggin’ way!”

“See? I told you. History _can_ be interesting.”

“Okay, you got me there. We going inside?”

“Nah, we don’t have to. They do tours if you call in advance, though, so I’ll definitely put that on the list for the field trip.”

“Cas, we can go in if you want. You don’t have to skip all the stuff you want to see just because I barely managed a C in American History. Although maybe if I’d had you as a teacher instead of that old hag, I’d feel differently.”

Cas grinned and took Dean’s hand, leading them down the street toward the next site. “Yes, I remember. You and Mrs. McCarty did not get along very well.”

“Hey, as far as I’m concerned, people who refer to themselves in the third person should not be allowed to teach.”

“The use of personal pronouns does not determine what makes a good teacher, Dean. The ability to inspire learning does.”

“Come on, Cas. I find it hard to believe that someone whose clothes came straight out of some 1960s garage sale could inspire anyone.”

“So, you think if I showed up to school in, say, a 3-piece plaid corduroy suit then I’d fail to inspire anyone?”

“Hard to say,” Dean mused. “I think I’d need to see this look in person to make an informed decision.”

Cas laughed. “Tell you what. You agree to drive me to school dressed in a floral shirt and flared-leg jeans, and I’ll gladly wear the suit. Then we’ll see how many young minds get shaped.”

“Careful. You better not make promises your ass can’t cash.”

“My ass has all kinds of talents,” Cas winked as they entered the Granary Burying Ground. “I think I can handle it.”

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean groaned. “You can’t just say stuff like that when we’re walking into a cemetery.”

“Why not?”

“Because, I can’t be walking around all these dead famous people with a boner, that’s why.”

“Hmmm. I’d better find something to take your mind off things, then,” Cas replied innocently as he donned his glasses.

 

* * *

 

Okay, so Dean was pretty much horny as hell.

And it wasn’t as if he had a case of blue balls from not having slept with Cas in a while; on the contrary, they rarely missed a night.

But that image, of Cas spread out underneath him, making all those delicious moaning sounds while Dean was buried deep inside him, was starting to override everything else in Dean’s brain. Dean had thought that their impromptu date in the park the night before would segue nicely into some Dean-and-Cas mattress time, but Cas was so wiped out from the travelling that he pretty much zonked out the second they'd gotten back to their room.

Dean knew that it was gonna happen soon. Because, come on, Boston, right? Beautiful scenery, great food, fancy hotel – it was the perfect backdrop for their first time.

Yeah, yeah. So Dean Winchester was a closet romantic.

It was more than just the sex, though. Sure, he wanted that part to be perfect; after all, he’d long suspected that Cas’ ex had been a less-than-giving lover. Cas had never said anything, and never would because he wasn’t that type of person, but it niggled at the back of Dean’s brain regardless.

Dean had taken to reading everything he could about the ins and outs of gay sex, being a good top, how to stimulate the prostate and all that. Sometimes it was awkward as fuck to read about. Sometimes he got so turned on thinking about doing those things to Cas that he had to stop and go jerk off. But mostly Dean just wanted to make sure he did everything right, because he wanted this to be good for Cas.

But more than that, the past couple of weeks working side by side with Cas reminded Dean just how far the two of them had come, and just how goddamn lucky he was. He could very well have blown off writing that apology letter all those months ago; he could’ve spotted Cas in Home Depot that day, turned around, and walked the other way, never to see Cas again. Sure, the guilt would’ve eaten him alive for the better part of a month or two, but eventually it would’ve faded like it did all those years ago.

Dean would have started dating. He might have even met someone special enough to go out with more than once.

But he sure as shit wouldn’t have had _this_.

That feeling that his heart was going to burst every time Cas laughed. That lightness he felt in his chest when he’d see Cas take out his camera and start snapping away at the scenery. The way he almost couldn’t breathe when Cas would get lost in his books researching the history behind each site and then suddenly look up at Dean and just _smile_ – there was no way in hell Dean would have had any of that with anyone else.

And he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to admit it out loud, but he never _did_ have any if that with anyone else. Not remotely.

Which was why it was time to be with Cas, fully, in every way. Tonight.

That is, if Cas wasn’t too worn out from looking at old stuff all day.

Or if Dean didn’t attack him first for being all Hot Professor and shit. Damn, Cas really had no idea what he was doing to Dean.

“Something on your mind?” Cas sidled up behind Dean and slid an arm around his waist, hooking his chin over Dean’s shoulder.

“Nah. Just enjoying watching you be all teacher-y and stuff,” Dean winked, trying to ignore the way his skin prickled at the loss of Cas’ touch as Cas pulled away.

“You ready to move on? I think you’ll get a kick out of this next place.”

“Lead the way, navigator,” Dean saluted, reveling in the way Cas smiled softly at hearing the nickname Dean had given him all those months ago during their Worlds of Fun day.

As they neared the end of School Street, Cas stopped short in front of an unassuming red brick building with a green placard indicating its designation as a historical site. “Well, what do you think?”

Dean stared at the building, brow furrowed as he read the placard and then the sign over the door. Finally confusion gave way to comprehension, followed by a bit of mild outrage. “A fucking Chipotle? Are you shitting me?”

Cas stifled a giggle. “It’s the former site of the Old Corner Bookstore. It was a publishing house that produced works by Longfellow, Hawthorne, Emerson, and Alcott, to name a few.”

“And they turned it into a Chipotle? What the hell?”

“Well, what would you suggest they do with it?”

“I don’t know. Turn it into a museum or something?”

“Dean, they can’t turn every old building in the city into a museum. It’s not practical.”

“Yeah, but they don’t have to turn them into some shitty-ass chain restaurant either. What’s next, a fucking Starbucks at the Parthenon?”

“Come on, you don’t even like history. What does it matter to you what they do with the building? It's still here, isn't it?” Cas laughed and bumped Dean’s hip. “What do you say we skip the next few sites and grab an early lunch at Quincy Market?”

“You trying to distract me with food?”

“Distract you from what? Your diatribe against change?”

“I just thought you’d be more outraged, is all.” Dean threw Cas a sideways smirk and bumped his hip back. “And I kinda like you when you’re all red and in the face and screaming.”

Cas’ face split into a wide grin and glanced back at Dean. “Maybe you’ll get to see that anyway,” he answered with a wink as he started down Washington Avenue.

So, apparently Dean was wrong.

Cas knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

 

* * *

 

Yes, Castiel was having the time of his life making Dean squirm.

The little looks Dean was giving, the way his eyes would widen the slightest little bit and then he’d quickly recover, the way he’d oh-so-subtly pull at the hem of his shirt to cover his crotch – it was all just so delicious. The only question was how long it would take Dean to crack and drag Cas back to the hotel.

Because Dean _always_ cracked first.

Cas was quite surprised at Dean’s resolve this time; even after they’d stopped at Mike’s Pastry in the North End for dessert and cappuccinos, and Cas spent the better part of twenty minutes licking éclair filling from his fingers as suggestively as he could, Dean still only shrugged and asked, “Okay, where to next?”

It was more than a little maddening.

Cas had never known Dean to hold out for this long. If they’d been at home, Dean would’ve long since dragged him up to the bedroom. It left him wondering, what was Dean’s endgame here? Because Cas was starting to run out of ideas. That éclair thing had been his ace in the hole, and Dean had barely blinked.

Okay, so he _had_ blinked. Blinked, coughed, turned red in the face, and adjusted his pants more than a few times. But what he had not done was display any indication whatsoever that he intended to give Cas a blow job any time soon.

Cas was not going to admit defeat; he just needed to adopt a new tactic. Perhaps laying off the suggestive looks and innuendo and letting Dean stew for a while was just what he needed to tip things in his favor. Fortunately, the lush green of the tree-lined Paul Revere Mall would provide the perfect distraction. Cas pulled out his camera and put some distance between himself and Dean as they entered the park.

Dean played the dutiful boyfriend the entire time, keeping to himself, feigning interest in the Paul Revere statue. Cas tried his best not to watch Dean out of the corner of his eye, but _damn_ the man was just so beautiful in the dappled afternoon sunlight, sitting there on a simple park bench and people watching with this soft smile on his face, glancing at Cas every so often then looking away shyly. Cas was dying to know what Dean was thinking about in those moments, but damned if he was going to ask.

No, Dean was going to come to him this time.

By the time they left the Old North Church Cas had pretty much given up. They were on their way to the last stop of the day, and the hotel was too far away now to dash back for a midday tryst anyway. The good news, at least, was that Cas got some pretty detailed notes for his field trip and maybe even one or two decent photos, if he was lucky. And he got to spend the day with Dean.

Even if he didn’t get a blow job out of it.

 

* * *

 

Copp’s Hill Burying Ground proved to be a much more intense experience than Cas had bargained for. The more prominent people buried there weren’t nearly as notable as the ones he had seen earlier at Granary, just a few fire-and-brimstone preachers famous for the Salem witch trials.

No, what struck Cas the most was the fact that the hill overlooked Charlestown across the Boston Harbor. It wasn’t the most breathtaking view, but it was high enough that the British had picked this spot to train their artillery against Charlestown during the Battle of Bunker Hill. Cas had been covering that battle while teaching the Revolutionary War every year since he’d started teaching, and now to be standing here, in this exact spot, was quite overwhelming.

He wandered among the tombstones, most of which were sunken into the ground at varying angles and depths creating a rather haphazard mosaic of masonry, finally stopping before the tomb of one Captain Daniel Malcolm. It wasn’t a name Cas had ever heard before, but that simple stone, riddled with bullets from a war our forefathers had fought to gain our country’s independence, took his breath away.

Cas dropped his bag and sat on the ground, wishing for the first time in his life that he knew how to draw. That headstone was just begging to be sketched, and there was no way that capturing it on film would be remotely the same as having the dips and shadows darkened with pencil or charcoal onto paper.

“Cas, you okay? Someone you know?” Dean came up behind, laying a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Wait. Holy shit, are those bullet holes?”

“Yes,” Cas nodded as Dean sat beside him. “One of the battles of the Revolutionary War took place here. This is one of the few pieces of physical evidence that remains.”

“Damn. That’s crazy.” Dean wound an arm around Cas’ waist and Cas found himself leaning into the touch, laying his head on Dean’s shoulder.

This was nice. This was real. Silly games, trying to get the other to break first – that was just juvenile. Moments like this were what mattered.

Dean cleared his throat. “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“I know this isn’t the best time to say this or whatever, considering we’re in the middle of a cemetery, but dammit, I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you all day. Well, for weeks, really, but you know, there’s just not really a good time to blurt out something like this.”

“Dean, what is it?” Cas was starting to get worried.

“You remember what you told me a couple of weeks ago? About that fantasy you had? Well, not so much the tool belt part, but the other thing? The, um, the sex thing?”

“Yes,” Cas hedged, barely daring to breathe as the gears started to fall into place in his mind. “You mean…”

“Yeah. I’d like to do that. I’m ready.”

_Fuck shit goddamn holy fucking Christ._

The mental image of Dean fucking him over that work bench hit Cas like a freight train, and then suddenly there he was, in the middle of the damn cemetery, rock hard and struggling to breathe. “Goddammit, Dean.” Cas scrambled up off the ground and grabbed his bag, cursing as he stormed out of the cemetery. He was gonna kill Dean, bringing this up now and giving him a massive hard-on in the middle of all these dead people.

This was payback, wasn’t it? For that comment he’d made earlier at the Granary Burying Ground? And Dean had just been biding his time all day, waiting for the perfect moment to get back at him, and dammit, it had worked like a fucking charm, because there was no way Cas could ignore that comment. He’d cracked, and he hated being the first one to crack, but he had to have Dean fucking _now_ and they were too fucking far from the hotel. All he could do was walk as fast as he could and hope Dean caught up.

It was more than a small miracle that Cas even remembered his maps well enough to find his way back, considering that all the blood in his body was fighting its way south at the moment. He turned onto Hanover Street and headed west.

And then it hit him. Really, fully hit him what Dean had said.

Dean was serious. He wasn’t just saying that stuff as part of their little game. He had actually meant it. Dean was ready to make love to him.

Dean was actually going to fuck him.

_Oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus. Don’t think about it. Think of something else. Fuck, let’s see. George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, James Monroe, John Quincy Adams…_

“Cas! Cas, hold up, man!” Dean began to catch up as Cas neared North End Park.

_Don’t turn around. Don’t talk to him. Don’t even look at him._

_Jesus Christ, he smells good._

_No. Come on. Um, Zachary Taylor, Millard Fillmore, Franklin Pierce, James Buchanan…_

“Cas, look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to piss you off or anything. I mean, fuck, please, just talk to me.”

_Dammit, Dean. Don’t say “fuck,” not now._

_Grover Cleveland, Benjamin Harrison, Grover Cleveland again…_

The hotel came into view, fucking finally. Cas blew through the front door and slammed his hand down on the elevator button, thankful that Dean was beside him and currently not saying a word. After the longest fucking wait of his life, the doors opened.

It was empty, thank fuck.

It took three tries to push the button for their floor, his hand was shaking so bad. At long fucking last, the doors closed. Cas threw his bag on the floor and slammed Dean up against the wall, crashing their mouths together. Dean parted his feet as he stumbled backwards and Cas took the opportunity to slip a thigh between Dean’s legs. Dean wasn’t nearly as hard as Cas was at the moment; he had some catching up to do.

“Holy shit, Cas,” Dean panted, still riding Cas’ thigh as they broke apart. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“I am,” Cas growled, nipping his way down Dean’s neck. “I’m going to fucking kill you just as soon as you fuck me.”

“So you’re okay with that?” Dean breathed, grabbing two handfuls of Cas’ ass as he rutted up against Cas’ erection.

“I’ve wanted you since the moment I first saw you in my back yard, in your Levis and t-shirt.” Cas pulled Dean’s earlobe between his teeth and bit down, causing Dean to gasp out loud and squeeze Cas’ ass even tighter. “Before I even knew who you were, I wanted you to fuck me.”

“And after?” Dean asked as the elevator doors opened with a ding, a trace of worry crossing his brow. Cas stopped for a moment, finally realizing just how huge it was that Dean had put himself out there and made his admission out loud, even if the timing and the cemetery setting did leave a lot to be desired. Cas’ face softened into a smile.

“Dean, I love you. It doesn’t matter how we got here. Now take me inside and fuck me.”

“Okay,” Dean nodded, threading their fingers together. Cas grabbed his bag off the floor of the elevator and followed.

He’d expected to be nervous. He’d wanted this for a while, had dreamed about it, fantasized about it, and he’d always thought that when it finally happened he’d be nervous. After all, it had been almost a year since he’d let another man inside him, and then it had been only one man, the same man since he’d lost his virginity at 22. Cas hadn’t known anything, anyone different in his life, so he’d fully expected that when the time finally came that Dean was ready to have sex with him, he’d be a nervous wreck.

Instead he’d never felt more calm in his life.

He let Dean lead him inside, setting his bag down in the entryway as Dean tossed his wallet and keycard on the dresser. There was one long moment, maybe two, where they just stood and looked at each other, neither one daring to move or breathe as the heavy weight of what was about to happen hung in the air between them.

Dean moved first, crossing slowly over to Cas until they were a hair’s breadth apart.

They had kissed enough over the past few months that Cas had gotten pretty good at deciphering all of Dean’s kisses. There were the tiny little greeting kisses that Dean would peck on his lips whenever he walked in from having been in a separate room for a couple of hours. There were the ones that Cas mentally referred to as Dean’s “I love you” kisses, when Dean would just smile unblinkingly at him like he held the answers to all the questions in the universe, then lean in and kind of suck on his bottom lip for a second.

There were the Saturday morning goodbye kisses just before Cas would leave to go spend the weekend over at his own place, because neither one of them had the nerve for Cas to stay over while Ben was there just yet; Dean would cradle Cas face in both hands and his brow would furrow the slightest little bit like saying goodbye was just so devastatingly painful but he was too manly to admit it. Then there were the Tuesday reunion kisses, when Cas would come back over to Dean’s place after having spent three whole nights apart. Dean would wrap his arms as tightly as he could around Cas’ waist and pull him close until every inch of their bodies was touching.

But none of those held a candle to Dean’s seduction kisses. Dean knew just which spots to run his tongue along to make Cas shiver, just where to scrape his teeth to make Cas gasp for breath, just where to lightly run his fingertips to make Cas melt under his touch.

Cas knew all of Dean’s kisses, and he loved them, each and every one.

But this? This was new.

Dean leaned in until just their noses were touching, panting against Cas’ mouth. Cas let his eyes sweep across Dean’s face; Dean’s nose and forehead was the tiniest bit pink, his freckles much more prominent after having spent the day in the sun. He smelled faintly of sweat, with traces of cappuccino and apple pie on his breath from the pastry shop. He brought a trembling hand up, cupping Cas’ face, tracing Cas’ lower lip with his thumb. His eyes, normally so lush and green, full of sass and confidence, were pinched with apprehension.

When Dean finally pressed his lips against Cas’, it wasn’t his usual I’m-about-to-make-you-feel-so-damn-good seduction kiss. It was tentative, uncertain, almost like Dean was about to have his first kiss ever and had no fucking clue what he was doing. It made Castiel’s heart melt a thousand times over, because no one, not ever, got to see this side of Dean. Dean Winchester was always so bold, so brash, full of bluster and bravado. He wasn’t ever tentative or scared or vulnerable. Well, maybe a tiny bit in front of Sam, on occasion, but not like _this_. Never like this.

Only Cas got to see him at his weakest, with his walls completely down.

“Dean, you’re shaking,” Cas whispered when their lips finally parted.

Dean offered a tiny smile. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Well, I have,” Cas smiled as he took Dean’s hand and led him to the bed. He sat on the edge and unbuttoned his shirt as Dean removed his Henley and tossed it to the side. Blue jeans, socks, and shoes soon followed until both men were lying there in their underwear, Dean hovering just inches above Cas.

Cas had seen Dean’s naked cock hundreds of times, had gripped it in his hand and stroked it to orgasm, had held it in his mouth and licked and sucked until Dean fell apart time and time again. But now the sight of his love above him in those simple gray boxers, not quite yet ready to bare himself, filled Cas with such a fondness for this man that he never knew was possible. He reached his hand up and pulled Dean down for a kiss.

It began simply, just the meeting of mouths and tongues, the sharing of breath. Cas poured every ounce of love and reassurance into that kiss that he could muster, and pretty soon Dean relaxed above him, melting into Cas’ touch, until the only thing Cas could consciously feel anymore was how much his body thrummed with need for this man to be inside him.

“Dean,” he pleaded. “Need you.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Cas nodded. “I’m ready. Dean, I want you inside me. Please.”

“Okay.” Dean let out a shaky breath as he reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom that Cas had no idea had even been there. It made him smile that Dean had planned this little surprise ahead of time without him even knowing. He reached down and slid the waistband of Dean’s boxers down and Dean wriggled out of them the rest of the way as he worked Cas’ briefs down.

Dean paused a moment, working up the courage to take that first step. Cas could easily have grabbed the bottle of lube and opened himself up, giving Dean a show to end all shows. He had never done it before, but he knew what it felt like and he knew Dean would definitely enjoy watching. But something told him that Dean needed to do this for himself, needed the full experience. Cas waited patiently as Dean slicked his fingers up and rubbed them together to warm the cold lube, then parted his legs in invitation.

The first touch of Dean’s hand against him was bliss. Dean didn’t breach him, just massaged a finger against his hole, but it was heavenly. When Dean finally slipped a finger inside he couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips. God, he could come just from Dean’s fingers in him alone. “You okay?” Dean asked, his brow pinched in worry that he was hurting Cas.

“Yes,” Cas breathed. “More than okay.”

“You ready for another?”

“Yes. Please.”

Dean took his time opening Cas up, far longer than Cas would have done himself. He had only managed to graze Cas’ prostate a couple of times, a fact which Cas was actually grateful for because if Dean had been any more of an expert with his hands Cas would have come ages ago. By the time Dean had four fingers in him Cas was ready to start begging. Fortunately, he didn’t have to.

“Fuck, Cas, I don’t think I can hold out here. You ready?”

“God, yes,” Cas moaned. “Please, for the love of God, fuck me already.”

“Jesus.” Dean huffed out a laugh as he reached for the condom. “Such a bossy little bottom.”

“Hey. You’re the one who made me wait. If it were up to me, I would’ve mounted you yesterday in the park watching the sunset.”

Dean leaned over Cas, placing each of Cas’ legs on his shoulders. “You should have. I bet you’d look gorgeous getting fucked by sunset.” Then finally, at long last, Dean took hold of his cock and ever-so-slowly began to push it inside.

“Oh, Jesus,” Dean groaned. “God _damn_ , you feel good.”

“Dean, please,” Cas pleaded. “Move already.”

Dean leaned down and gave Cas one of his I-love-you kisses before raising back up and snapping his hips forward. He didn’t even try to take it slowly; once Cas began to rock back against Dean’s cock neither of them stood a chance. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s back and tried to hold on for dear life as Dean fucked him amidst a blur of kisses, of pants and moans into each other’s mouths, of fingernails digging and scratching into skin, of white hot heat and a pleasure so intense Cas thought he was going to pass out until _holy fuck_ , Dean raised up onto his knees and lifted Cas’ hips up off the bed, fucking straight into him as he held Cas’ ankles on either side of his shoulders.

“Holy shit! Right there!” Cas cried as Dean began to nail his prostate on every single fucking thrust. “Fuck, right there! Jesus, Don’t stop!”

“Cas, baby, I’m… _fuck_ , I’m not gonna last.”

Cas wrapped an expert hand around his erection and began stroking frantically. Watching Dean fall apart so beautifully above him, he wasn’t going to last much longer either. “Come on Dean, let go. Please, let me see you come.”

Just a few more thrusts and Dean slammed the headboard into the wall as he came with a shout, Cas just seconds behind. They both collapsed back on the bed, neither one able to form any coherent words as they lay there panting.

It was Dean who spoke first. Well, not so much “spoke” as “started laughing uncontrollably.”

“Something amuse you there, Dean?” Cas giggled, unable to help himself.

“Yeah. We should’a done that weeks ago.”

“And why is that funny?”

“We could’ve saved a couple thousand dollars.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Because there’s no way we’re gonna see any more of Boston, because we’re not leaving this hotel now.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all once again for your wonderful comments and kudos! They have really kept me going during those periods when writing becomes too overwhelming.
> 
> On another note, my best friend/beta Bryna73 and I just dropped a few $$ on gold packages to NashCon 2016. If any of you are planning on going, let me know!

_Saturday_

Cas had spent weeks planning and researching this trip.

He’d checked out Boston travel guides from the library. He’d read each one several times over, marking the pages of the places he’d most like to take the students with little Post-it flags. He’d read dozens of articles online detailing the most popular sites to take students on field trips, ones that may not be listed in tourist travel books. He’d purchased several maps of Boston and studied them during his free time so he’d know the most efficient way to get to each location.

Of course, he knew there were a few places he’d visit with the students that he wouldn’t get to see ahead of time. Some things Dean just wouldn’t have the patience to do, like a day trip to Salem. Now if they had come at Halloween, that would be another story; Salem in October had a reputation for being fun as hell, and Dean absolutely loved Halloween. But a random weekend in July? There was no way Dean would sit still through boring old museum exhibits about the Salem Witch Trials.

And visiting Harvard? No way. Dean would just spend the whole day bitching about all the preppy rich kids. Never mind the fact that Dean’s own brother attended Stanford, which was arguably more prestigious than Harvard. But regardless, Dean would never stand for it, so a day trip to Cambridge would also have to wait until later.

That’s not to say that there still wasn’t a ton of stuff to do in Boston; as it was, Cas had had a difficult time narrowing down his must-see items to just a select few, since he and Dean only had four full days. They still hadn’t seen the U.S.S Constitution or the Bunker Hill Memorial.  They hadn’t visited the Institute of Contemporary Art, the Museum of Science, or the Museum of Fine Arts. They hadn’t ridden the swan boats, strolled along the Esplanade, done the Harbor Walk, or explored Beacon Hill. Cas had made an agenda out for each day so that he’d get to see the maximum number of places in the most efficient amount of time possible, not missing anything.

But all of those things on Cas’ to-do list, all of those things he had painstakingly researched and meticulously planned, went straight out the window when Cas woke up the morning after Dean had made love to him. The memory of Dean’s weight on top of him, the stretch of Dean’s fingers, the pleasant burn of Dean’s cock inside him, followed by one of the most intense orgasms he’d ever experienced – not to mention how absolutely gorgeous Dean looked during all of the above – and suddenly all of those things on his to-do list were unceremoniously chunked in favor of being with Dean again and again, in every way Cas could think of.

After all, there were several more pieces of furniture, not to mention a shower and many square feet of carpet, in their hotel room in need of christening.

Dean in the throes of orgasm had always been one of the most beautiful sites Cas had ever seen, but there was something completely different about last night. Cas couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was exactly, but he was determined not to let either one of them leave the room until he figured it out.

Dean had barely woken up before Cas straddled him and threw the bottle of lube in his hands.

“Damn, Cas. You not get enough last night?” Dean blinked back the sleep as he slicked up his fingers.

“Of you? Never.” Cas sighed blissfully as Dean’s fingers entered him, working him open.

He had never been able to enjoy this before, being on top; he’d always felt too on display, and it was difficult to let himself go. But Dean seemed to like whatever it was he saw, his breath hitching beautifully whenever Cas let out a little moan or let his eyes flutter closed. And when Cas sank down on Dean’s deliciously thick cock, Dean let out the most gorgeous broken cry.

Yeah, they were definitely not leaving this room any time soon.

***

It was after noon before Dean finally managed to drag his ass out of bed. The room had begun to smell like a bath house, and Cas, as insatiable as he was, needed a break. Dean took an extra-long time in the shower; it wasn’t nearly as nice as his own, the fancy walk-in with two shower heads that he’d built himself, and… _damn_ , he couldn’t wait to fuck Cas in that shower. His cock gave an interested twitch at the thought.

_Down, boy. You’ve had enough fun for a while._

Dean finished washing up, threw on some jeans and sank into the recliner by the window, grabbing one of Cas’ travel books while Cas took his turn in the shower. There were dozens of colored flags peeking out from the pages, marking the things Cas had painstakingly planned for them to see, and Dean was curious what he and Cas were missing out on. Sex with Cas was nice, hell, it was wonderful, but it had been a while since Dean had been out of Lawrence and, despite his proclamation to the contrary last night, he did intend to make the most of it.

Cas emerged from the shower, towel slung low around his waist and hair still dripping. “See something you’d like to do in there?”

Dean shrugged. He _did_ have a little something in mind for tonight, but he wasn’t sure if it would fit in with Cas’ agenda. “I don’t know. Maybe. What did you have planned for today, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Cas pulled on his boxers and filched through the dresser drawers, pulling out a fresh pair of jeans and t-shirt. “Pick something. Whatever you want to do.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Cas, this trip was supposed to be your thing. We can do one of these things. What about the Boston Tea Party Museum? You had that one flagged to check out. And it’s close to the river, so we can do the Harbor Walk. You wanted to do that too, right?”

Cas sat down on the ottoman across from Dean. “Forget all that stuff. This is your vacation, too. What would you like to see?”

“You giving me free rein?”

“You got it,” Cas nodded, smiling.

Dean gave Cas a quick peck and climbed out of the chair, smacking Cas on the ass with the book before tossing it onto the bed. “We’d better get going, then.”

***

Of _course_ this was what Dean would want to do. Out of everything in that book, it was just like Dean to pick this place.

“The Sam Adams Brewery? Really?”

“Dude, this place is gonna be awesome. They give tours and stuff, and you get free beer. What’s not to love?”

“Only you, Dean.” Cas rolled his eyes with a laugh as they entered.

“What?” Dean proclaimed innocently. “Like this wasn’t on your list.”

“Of places to take a group of high school girls? No, it wasn’t.”

“Well, it should have been. High school kids love beer, right?  Come on, tell me you never drank beer in high school.”

Cas shot Dean a sideways glance. “Be that as it may, contributing to the delinquency of minors is not on my agenda for this field trip.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.”

“Yes, all the students hate me.”

***

“Will you just tell me where we’re going?” Cas trusted Dean, but the mystery was killing him.

“Nope,” Dean answered simply. “You said I could pick, so I picked.”

The Orange Line train slowed to a stop at Downtown Crossing, and Dean stood up. “Come on. We gotta switch lines.”

“Since when did you learn the subways here so well?”

“I _can_ read a map, you know.” Dean led the way through the crowded halls toward the Red Line. Two quick stops later, and Cas figured out exactly where they were headed as he exited the Charles station alongside Dean and headed toward the pedestrian bridge that crossed to the Esplanade, the park along the Charles River.

“You never fail to surprise me, Dean.” He smiled as a faint blush crossed Dean’s face.

“Well, we might not be able to stay and watch the entire sunset, ‘cause we got somewhere to be, but we got a coupl’a hours to kill. What do you say we get some more pictures for your portfolio?”

“‘Somewhere to be’? Where might that be?”

Dean simply grinned. “You’re gonna just have to wait and see. Now, how much room you got left on your camera?”

“It’ll hold over a thousand pictures.” Cas stopped as they reached the trail along the river’s edge and took in the view of the tree-lined path. Off to his right, a crew team rowed past. “I hope it’s enough.”

They began strolling westward along the river’s edge, Cas continually taken aback at the beauty of the scenery as he snapped a few shots here and there. “So what are you planning on having me do with all these photos, anyway? Your refrigerator can only hold so much of my fabulous artwork.”

“Well, you know that web site I use to sell my furniture?”

“Come on, Dean.” Cas nudged Dean’s hip as they walked. “Say it out loud. Just once. Let me hear you. Come on, you can do it. _Et-sy_.” He enunciated the word slowly, grinning at the way Dean blushed.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled. “And yeah, that name is gay as hell, but I’ve made some good money, so, you know, Sarah knew what she was doing when she signed me up. But anyway, so, I was looking. There are people on there who sell photographs. Like your kind of stuff. They post their pictures, and you can order prints in whatever size you want. I even found a print shop in town you could use. Or, you know, I could build you a darkroom and you could do ‘em yourself. It doesn’t look that hard. I could help you.”

Cas stopped, gaping at Dean. “You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

“Well…” Dean shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, your photos are awesome. Way better than some of the stuff I’ve seen on there. I bet you’d make some serious money.”

“You know what?” Cas normally wouldn’t even consider such a thing, selling what basically amounted to pieces of himself, pages from his diary, but Dean was so adorably earnest. “I’ll think about it. For you. On one condition, though.”

“What?” Dean eyed him warily.

Cas smirked. “You have to say it.”

“What? No way!”

“Well, then, I might as well delete all these right now.” Cas pulled up his camera’s view screen and ran through the menus, locating the trash bin. “Since, you know, I won’t be needing them for anything.”

“Wait, stop!” Dean huffed out a sigh. It was so delicious watching his squirm. “Fine. _Etsy_. Happy now?”

“You’re too easy,” Cas grinned, winding his free arm around Dean and starting back down the path.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see who’s begging who later tonight after I show you where we’re going for dinner.”

***

Dean barely pulled Cas away from the riverfront park in time to catch the subway to their dinner spot. He’d been planning this since the day Cas mentioned this trip, and had wanted it to be a surprise, so it kinda worked out perfectly that Cas stepped back and let Dean plan this whole day. He didn’t have to come up with any dumb excuses as to why they needed to stop whatever they were doing and head toward Kenmore.

It was getting harder and harder to keep it to himself, though, as Cas begged for the third time to know where they were headed. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” Dean replied with a smile and a quirk of his brow.

“I hate waiting,” Cas muttered as the train rattled along the track.

“Yeah, yeah, Inigo. I feel you.”

As they exited the station and spotted the directional signs, though, Cas’ eyes lit up. “Fenway Park? Are you serious?”

“Yep,” Dean grinned. He still couldn’t believe that Cas hadn’t thought of this first. “Red Sox are playing the Yankees tonight. Bought the tickets online a few weeks ago. So, what do you say, you up for a little baseball?”

Cas answered by throwing his arms around Dean and pulling him in for a kiss, right there on the street corner. “You are so getting laid tonight,” Cas growled in his ear as they parted.

“See? And you say _I’m_ the easy one,” Dean answered with a smirk.

 

* * *

 

_Sunday evening_

It had been the perfect day.

Really, if Dean were being honest, this whole trip so far had been perfect.

He’d never live it down, of course, if Sammy and Sarah found out that he and Cas spent the better part of the morning under a tree in the park with donuts and coffee they’d picked up at a little pastry shop they’d passed on the way, Cas reading a book with his head on Dean’s lap while Dean looked through the pictures on Cas’ camera. Or that they’d spent the afternoon strolling along the harbor while Cas took more photos, or that they’d had dinner at sunset at some fancy seafood place on the river, but whatever.

Let ‘em talk. Let ‘em say whatever the hell they want, because being with Cas was the best fucking thing ever to happen to Dean Winchester.

Because Cas was his best friend, right? They could watch movies and drink beer and bullshit all day long. But it was more than that – they pushed each other to do better. To _be_ better. Like, Dean never would’ve gotten on a plane and flown halfway across the country for just anyone, but for Cas? He didn’t have to think twice.

And the furniture thing? Yeah, Dean had (sort of) started that before he and Cas had become friends, sure, but his efforts were half-assed at best, mostly to get Sarah off his back. Dean had never really expecting anything to come of it; his best-case scenario would have been that he’d build a few things that wouldn’t sell, and he’d end up giving them all away as Christmas presents or something. But with Cas’ encouragement? Dean had begun crafting more and more intricate and complex pieces, and his little side business had taken off, more than he’d ever dreamed. Dean had never been this financially comfortable in his entire life, and it barely felt like work at all.

Then there was Cas, and this photography thing. Before Dean, he’d just shoved those pictures of his in a corner. For Christ’s sake, he was actually going to throw the damn things away and forget about them. Forget that there was this thing he loved to do that brought him joy, this thing that he could just get lost in with this zen-like concentration, where he’d look so peaceful, so content, like all his worries and stresses just melted away.

Dean still wasn’t sure if Cas would ever actually agree to sell his photos, but at least he was taking them again, and that was something. That was pretty fucking huge, actually. Dean could see it in his eyes when he had the camera in his hands, how much Cas loved it. And Dean loved seeing Cas so happy.

Dean had never had someone like that, someone that he just enjoyed being with but who also pushed him to do more. Well, there was Sammy, but he was family so he was sort of stuck with Dean. But Cas? He was with Dean voluntarily. Because he wanted to be. It was crazy. And Dean wanted to be with Cas. He couldn’t even begin to imagine life without that goofy smile or that perpetual 5:00 shadow or that or that secretly muscled physique that looked every bit at home in Hugo Boss as it did in Dean’s jeans and the old Marvin the Martian t-shirt that it was sporting right now.

Not to mention those insanely blue eyes that pierced straight through all Dean’s bullshit to the person within, and decided to stay anyway.

Cas was… Cas was _it_ for him, you know?

It was one hell of a revelation to have while riding the Orange Line back to the hotel. Like, _fuck_. Cas was asleep, snoring softly with his head on Dean’s shoulder. So what was Dean supposed to do now? Wake Cas up and make this grand declaration? _I think I love you more than I ever loved anyone in my life. More than I ever loved the goddamn mother of my own son, even on our best day._

Cas startled awake as the train came screeching to a halt at the South Street station. “Are we home?” he croaked sleepily.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, combing his fingers through Cas’ hair as Cas rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah, Cas, we’re home.”

_Because home is wherever you are._

_Jesus, I’m such a sap._

“Dean, you asshole,” Cas growled, squinting against the fluorescent lights. “We’re at the train station.”

“Sorry,” Dean chuckled. “My mistake.”

“Just for that, I should make you carry me back to the hotel.”

“I don’t know, after all you ate at that seafood place, I doubt I could pick your big ass up anymore.”

“Shut up,” Cas grumbled. “And you love my ass.”

“Yeah, I do.” Dean wrapped an arm around Cas as they climbed the stairs toward the street, planting a kiss on Cas’ temple. “I love all of you, actually.”

“Good,” Cas smiled sleepily. “Me too.”

 

* * *

 

_Monday_

Ever since his and Dean’s first meal there, Quincy Market had become Cas’ favorite place in the city; quietly, of course, he had begun to think of it as _their_ spot. After a full day of lunch at Cheers (the original Bull and Finch Pub on Beacon Street, not, as Dean called it, the “fake-ass replica one”) and shopping (which Dean had only reluctantly gone along with, until he discovered the clearance rack at Eddie Bauer), there was no other place that Cas would rather spend having an early dinner on his and Dean’s last full day in Boston.

Dean once again got his favorite Philly and Cas a lobster roll, and they ate their meal on the front steps amidst all the tourists taking shopping breaks and business people leaving work for the day. Dean looked so relaxed leaning back against the brick façade, his feet crossed in front of him, as he gazed at all the passers-by.

“You think I’d look good with a fanny pack, Cas?”

Cas almost spit tea out of his nose. “You can’t just say stuff like that while I’m drinking. Are you trying to kill me?”

“Hey! I bet I’d rock the hell out of that shit. I look good in everything.”

“Yes, I especially enjoy the humility that you’re sporting right now.”

“Did you see all the shirts I got at that Eddie Bauer place? Twenty bucks a piece!”

Cas flashed Dean a grin as he wiped the last of the tea from his chin. “Yes, I’m expecting you to model them for me later. Naked.”

“How can I model clothes naked?”

“You know what I mean.” Cas smiled and mouthed the word “striptease.”

“In your dreams,” Dean smiled. “Seriously, though. I even found stuff for Sammy and Sarah.”

“I thought you got all those mugs from Cheers for souvenirs?”

“I did. The clothes are for Christmas presents.”

“You finished your Christmas shopping in July?” Cas wiped away an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. “Dean, I’m so proud.”

“Shut up, asshole,” Dean laughed. “And I still gotta get something for Ben. Any ideas there, hotshot?”

Cas glanced around at the nearby shops. “Harley store?”

Dean’s face broke into a wide grin. “See? That’s why I love you.”

“Because of my incredible knowledge of bargain shopping?”

“Because you know me,” Dean murmured as he wrapped his hand around Cas’ neck and pulled him in for a kiss. “And you want me around anyway.”

“Always,” Cas whispered as he brought his mouth to Dean’s.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Cas?” Dean squinted against the late afternoon sun as they milled around the courtyard in front of Faneuil Hall trying to decide where to head next. “What’s up those steps across the street?”

“You know, I actually have no idea.”

“You mean you don’t have the map of this area memorized? Slacker.”

“Shut up, asshole.” Cas grinned as he pulled out his travel book and flipped to the map in the rear. “Looks like that building there is City Hall…”

“You mean that ugly gray concrete thing? That’s their City Hall?”

Cas sniffed out a laugh and continued. “Yeah. And the federal building is just beyond. Want to check it out?”

Dean eyed him suspiciously. “Seriously? Why?”

Cas shrugged. “The building may not be the most aesthetically pleasing, but it might make for some interesting photographs.”

“Whatever you say, then.”

The moment they crossed Congress Street and climbed the steps into the open courtyard beyond City Hall, Cas was glad they had come here. He might only get one good photo here worth keeping, but there were just so many interesting architectural angles. He couldn’t wait to get home tomorrow and transfer these photos to black and white.

It hit Cas like a shot to the heart – the place he had just mentally pictured as home and couldn’t wait to get back to was Dean’s house.

_Jesus_. He and Dean had only been dating for a couple of months. Hell, they had only been friends for seven, yet Dean had become such an inextricable part of his life, he couldn’t imagine home now being anywhere but with Dean.

_This is crazy._ I _am crazy. It’s too soon to be thinking like that._

_Isn’t it?_

Cas glanced around the courtyard for Dean, who was sitting down on the steps close to the federal building. He’d made himself comfortable, legs stretched out in front, hands behind him supporting his weight, his shopping bags pooled at his feet. He looked so handsome sitting there, eyes closed against the late afternoon sun, his face relaxed and content. Cas ignored the architectural monstrosity next to him and zoomed in on Dean.

God, he was beautiful. It was surreal, sometimes, to think that someone who was that beautiful, both inside and out, would be with Cas. Dean could have his pick of anyone, male or female, and he chose to be with Cas.

Little old Castiel Milton that no one was supposed to love, that no one was supposed to want to have around.

Cas had tried to put those words out of his mind ever since Dean came back into his life. After all, Dean had apologized, and what’s past was past.

But staring at Dean, sitting there on the courtyard steps, Cas thought back to that night, that awful night when Dean had sat on Castiel’s front steps and admitted his own past. Dean had spent his whole life since then running from the things his dad had said and done to him.

He and Cas had more in common than Cas had ever thought possible.

_Stop it_ , Cas told himself. _This is neither the time nor the place for your therapy. Focus instead on the hot man over there who loves you. The hot man who’s going to strip for you later before he makes love to you._

Cas lifted his camera back up to hiseye when his brain just barely registered man in a suit exiting the federal building to cross the plaza a few feet away from where Dean was sitting. Cas glanced over from behind his lens, almost dropping his camera. He’d know that figure anywhere.

It was Balthazar.


	28. Chapter 28

“And you’re sure it was him?” Pamela grabbed a fry off Cas’ plate and dragged it through the remaining streaks of ketchup. “Not some other blond guy in a suit that kinda-sorta looked like him?”

“No way.” Cas raised his glass to his lips and sucked the last of the gin and tonic from the bottom of the glass. He normally wouldn’t have gone straight to hard liquor in the middle of the day, but there was no way he’d have gotten through confessing any of what had happened without a little liquid courage. “It was him. I’d bet my life on it.”

“Come on, Cas. Boston’s a pretty well-populated city. Millions of tourists and all. Can you be _absolutely sure_ it wasn’t someone else?” Pam saw the look Cas gave her in response and smirked. “Hey, don’t give me that shit. That’s why you called me – to play Devil’s advocate, right?”

Cas just rolled his eyes “Pam, I lived with him for three years. We started dating when I was 21. I know what he looks like. It was him.”

“Okay, fine. So you saw him and you freaked the fuck out. And, then what, did he see you?”

“No. I was a good 100 feet away looking at him through my camera lens.” Cas had been mentally replaying that moment over and over the past few weeks, wishing Balthazar had seen him, thanking God he hadn’t, wishing he had never seen Balthazar, wondering if it was a good thing that he had.

Well, at least now he knew what happened to his ex, right? Knowing that Balthazar moved to Boston was positive, right? So now Cas could move past this whole thing, once and for all?

He had been telling himself that for two weeks. Seeing Balthazar was a good thing.

So why did he still feel like his heart had been crushed all over again?

Cas shook his head, eyes locked on the remaining cold, soggy fries in front of him, the answer no clearer to him now than it had been that day. “He never saw me. He never even looked my way.”

“So, if he _had_ seen you and come over to talk to you, what would you have said to him?”

Cas shrugged. “You know, I really have no idea.”

“Oh, please. Don’t try to tell me you haven’t had some speech prepared since the week he left, in case you ever ran into him, honing the words until you have this perfectly poetic fuck-you that’ll leave him a drooling, speechless mess who’ll regret the day he ever crossed you.”

No, he didn’t, but now that she mentioned it? It seemed like a damn good idea to Cas, and one that Pam thought of suspiciously fast. “Do girls really do that?”

Pam chuckled. “Sometimes. Me? I’m more of a ‘You don’t want to be with me? Then fuck you’ kinda gal, myself.”

“I wish it were that easy.” Cas idly swirled his stirrer straw through the slowly melting ice at the bottom of his glass, debating whether ordering a third cocktail at lunch would be overkill. He had tried to blow this whole thing off and just go back to life as usual, but something just wouldn’t let him. All this time it had been – well, _easy_ wasn’t quite the right word, but his thesaurus wasn’t exactly operating at full capacity right now so it was the closest word he could think of, so – _relatively_ easy to forget about Balthazar and move on, because Balthazar had left without a trace. No signs, no breadcrumbs, no clues left behind as to where he had gone.

Now that Cas knew the where? He couldn’t stop himself from wanting to know the why, once and for all.

He had sat at his computer more times now than he cared to count, ready to Google his ex and find out all he could as to what the man had been up to for the past 10 months. He had even gotten as far as the first results page, the words “Balthazar Roché is the newest member of the Gage Whitney law team” taunting him, but he could never bring himself to click on it.

Clicking on that link would make it more real somehow. More final. More heartbreaking.

Cas sighed, wishing this all made more sense. “I really wish I could just say, ‘Fuck him,’ and forget all about him.”

“So why can’t you?”

Trust Pam to cut right to the chase. That same question had been spinning around in Cas’ brain for weeks now, churning around until it drowned out everything else with the force of its current.

_Why can’t I forget him? I don’t know, because he’s my first love? The first man I ever kissed, had sex with, said “I love you” to?_

_How about because I’m an idiot? Because I’m some sort of masochist who loves to wallow around in their own misery instead of being happy? Because I have to know, once and for all, what’s so fucking great about Boston that he had to make up some bullshit story about why he was going? Because I’ll always wonder why some stupid fucking lie was better than the truth?_

_Or is it because he was the first man ever to make me feel like I was worth something, and the fact that he could leave so callously gives me the sneaking suspicion that maybe I’m really not?_

_Because… because I want to stay pissed at him for walking out the way he did, but dammit if he didn’t look handsome in that suit, and seeing him again made me remember all the good times we had together, and I can’t stop wondering if he ever thinks about me like that?_

Cas dropped the straw from his suddenly shaky fingers as the last thought hit his brain. _Jesus, I’m shallow. I have this wonderful man at home waiting for me, and instead I’m sitting here like some jilted prom date hoping my ex misses me._

“Hey, look,” Pam interrupted his thoughts, blessedly cutting into the endless loop of doubt and self-loathing that was getting more intense with every turn. “What he did can’t be easy to get over. You probably never even had a decent chance to get over it and get some real, honest-to-god closure. It’s gonna take some time.”

“So in the meantime, what am I supposed to do?” How was Cas supposed to go back to life as usual and pretend that there wasn’t this thing eating him up? How was he supposed to begin to understand why it was even eating him up to start with?

Pam huffed out a sigh and leaned back in her seat, folding her arms across her chest. “I know what I think you should do, but I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”

“What?”

“You need to talk to Dean.”

 

* * *

 

You know, Dean Winchester never went to college.

Sure, he went to trade school and got an electrician’s license, but he’d hardly qualify that as “college.” Not like Sam going to Stanford, anyway.

Dean didn’t ever read smart people books like _War and Peace_ , or _A Brief History of Time_. He didn’t use smart people words like “ennui” or “verisimilitude.” He didn’t watch foreign documentaries or listen to NPR or go to museums. He had no fucking clue how to play chess.

That did not mean that Dean Winchester was stupid, however.

He _knew_ something was up with Cas, something Cas was not telling him. Ever since Boston, Cas was quiet, withdrawn.

Things had been fine. Good, even. Cas was having the time of his life, touring all those historical places and taking his pictures. He had been flirting up a storm, flashing that smile that made Dean weak in the knees, looking at Dean with that unblinking gaze that pierced right through his heart every time. Cas was happy. Dean was happy. They were both so fucking happy that it would have made Dean vomit to witness second-hand just a few short months ago.

But then Dean had to go and tell Cas how much he wanted to have sex, and things went downhill pretty fucking fast.

It was the only explanation.

Before that, things were good. During, things were _really_ good. But after? That last night in Boston, Cas had curled up on the bed, his back to Dean, and gone to sleep without so much as a word. They’d been sleeping on separate sides of the bed ever since.

Maybe it was too much, too soon. Like, they’d only been dating a couple of months, right? Sure, in the world of Dean Winchester – or, at least, pre-baby, pre-marriage Dean Winchester – that would’ve been a couple of months too long. He would’ve sealed the deal on date 1 and probably moved on by the morning after. But with Cas? Cas was different.

He should’ve waited. Because when you want to be with someone forever, it’s not sprint to the finish line. It’s not a marathon, either, not really. It’s a stroll through the park, stopping to savor each and every metaphorical rose along the way. Dean should’ve waited. They should’ve savored.

But what if that wasn’t it? What if it was too little, too late? Like, he and Cas had been friends for so long; maybe Dean had dicked around a little too long before finally growing some balls and telling Cas how he felt, and maybe they missed their window. Maybe Cas finally realized that this thing with Dean just wasn’t meant to be, that they should’ve stayed just friends.

Or maybe Cas realized he had enough friends in his life and wanted Dean to go back to where he used to be, just an unpleasant blip in the recesses of memory.

It could be any of those. It could be none of them, or all of them. Dean had no idea. But what he did know was that something was wrong, and Cas didn’t want to talk about it. And when someone didn’t want to talk about something, that usually meant that it was bad news.

Which was why Dean was pretty fucking shocked that in the middle of one of the most awkwardly silent dinners that he had ever had, Cas suddenly set down his fork and announced, “We have to talk.”

Okay, here it was. In the middle of some chicken and broccoli stir-fry that Dean could barely taste, Cas was going to break up with him.

“I guess it’s pretty obvious that I’ve been a little distant since Boston,” Cas began, stopping to clear his throat. Dean didn’t see the need to argue that point, so Cas continued. “There’s something that I should have told you. Something that happened that last evening.”

Dean’s brain churned with a million possibilities. Cas has met someone. Or he’s going to leave Lawrence and move to Cambridge and be around other smart people. Or he’s straight and dating that realtor chick Pamela.

Or he suddenly realized that he never should have forgiven Dean.

“It was at the courtyard by City Hall. I was taking pictures of you, actually. You were sitting there by the trees in front of the federal building, and you looked so relaxed, so handsome.” Cas glanced down at his lap and gave a small smile that did little to settle Dean’s nerves. “Anyway, I saw someone walking near you, and I hazarded a glance through my camera lens. It was, um, it was Balthazar.”

Dean’s heart dropped out of his throat so fast it left him dizzy. He forced himself to ignore the fact that they now knew where Balthazar had slunk off to. He could deal with that fucking coward later; right now, his first priority was Cas.

And Jesus fucking Christ, he was an idiot. Of course, Cas seeing his ex would scare the shit out of him, after what had happened. No wonder he had been off lately. Dean forced himself to take a few deep breaths, willing his heart to stop beating out of his chest.

“Please forgive me for keeping this from you these past few weeks. The truth is, I didn’t quite know what to think or what to do about it. I still don’t. But I do know that I never want to keep anything from you.”

“Shit, Cas, are you okay?” Dean was surprised at the calm in his voice, considering that his frantic heart still wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t about to be broken.

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t know.” Cas closed his eyes and shook his head. His brows pinched together as he squeezed back the tears. “I want to be. I just don’t know how to get there.”

“Hey, Cas. It’s okay. We’ll figure this out.” Dean slipped out of his seat and slid in next to Cas, wrapping the man in his arms. “Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing, really. He never even looked my way.” Cas curled into Dean’s side, laying his head on Dean’s shoulder. “I know I shouldn’t feel so shitty about nothing happening, but I do.”

“Hey, stop that. It’s not nothing.” Dean had no idea what to do or say to make it all go away, but he could at least run his fingertips lightly along Cas’ arm, his strokes becoming more deliberate as Cas began to melt incrementally into the touch. “You know, you should’ve seen me last Halloween, when we ran into Lisa and her boyfriend. Well, husband now, I guess. I had no idea she was even seeing anybody. Spent the whole next day getting wasted. If I hadn’t’ve had to go work for Benny that Saturday, I would’ve probably kept going all weekend.”

Dean reached across the table and grabbed his beer, the memory of that weekend flooding back – how absolutely gutted he’d felt seeing her with her new family, the binge that night and well into the next day where he tried to drown her out, the phone call a day and a half later that she and that guy were getting married that finally made him decide to fuck all and move on; the fact that he was at Cas’ fucking house when he got that phone call; Cas’ face when they locked eyes in the backyard, a sobering reminder of what a goddamned asshole he’d been back in high school and just how much pain he’d caused Cas.

He didn’t deserve for Cas to ever say two words to him, much less to forgive him and be here now in his arms. And now Cas was in pain again, and Dean had no fucking clue how to help him.

“Are you saying I should just say ‘fuck it’ and get drunk?” Cas asked against his shoulder.

Dean shook his head and smiled. “I got no fucking clue what I was saying, man. But I _can_ tell you from personal experience that drinking when you already feel like shit just makes you feel more like shit.”

“So what do you suggest?”

Dean really had no idea what to do any more than Cas did; he wasn’t exactly the poster boy for How to Get Over a Failed Relationship the Healthy Way, but he had to do something. Cas had had enough pain in his life. He didn’t deserve this, and he was counting on Dean.

So, what then? Watch a movie? Perhaps. Take Cas upstairs, maybe give him a nice relaxing massage? That would be great, but Cas was most likely not in the mood to be intimate, even if it was chaste and didn’t lead anywhere. _Think, idiot, think! What do you normally do when you feel like shit?_

Dean stood up and held his hand out. “Come on. I have an idea.”

Cas tentatively stood up, glancing back toward the dinner dishes still half-filled with the abandoned stir-fry.

“Just leave it. I’ll get it in the morning.” Dean could see the look of uncertainty on Cas’ face at the prospect of leaving food out uncovered, possibly all night. He gave Cas’ hand a squeeze and pulled him along. “Come on. This is more important than some dirty dishes.”

Cas seemed to soften a bit at that, and let himself be led outside to Dean’s workshop. He waited patiently in the doorway as Dean turned on the lights and gathered up the papers strewn about. “Really? You’re putting me to work?”

“I thought maybe the measuring and cutting and sanding and stuff might help take your mind off things.” Dean shuffled through the cassettes laying around, at last settling on some Rolling Stones. He glanced back at Cas out of the corner of his eye as he slid the tape into the player, and caught sight of the sheer skepticism on Cas’ face. “Hey, cut me some slack. It’s all I could think of. And it always helps me, so, you know. Thought it would be worth a shot.”

Cas looked slowly around the room at the materials Dean had laid out in various states of completion, and finally squared his shoulders in resignation. “Fine. But I get a cut of the profits when whatever we’re building sells.”

“Hey, you hustling me?” Dean smirked.

Cas shrugged casually, a glint of humor in his eyes. “If you want my services, you’re going to have to pay for them.”

“Well, actually, I had another idea.” Dean handed Cas a sketch of a simple couch arm table, similar to the organizer he’d made Cas out of scraps all those months ago, but slightly more intricate. “You want to give this a shot?”

“Alone? As in… by myself?”

“Yeah, why not? You helped me out plenty last month; I know you know how to measure, and cut, and nail boards together. And following a design’s not much different from following a recipe.”

“What about this pattern that’s supposed to be etched on the side? It looks pretty detailed.”

“You can handle it. I’ll show you how to use the router when you get to that.”

Cas studied the drawing for the longest time, his head quirked in that inquisitive way of his. Dean just kept quiet and let Cas do his thing, and eventually Cas looked up from the sketch and nodded definitively. “Fine. But I get to wear the tool belt this time.”

 

* * *

 

Four and a half hours later, Dean dragged a dead-tired Cas up to his bed. Cas had finished his table, immediately setting to work on another one. ( _“A sofa has two arms, Dean. They’ll need a matching set.” “Who’s ‘they’?” “Whoever’s smart enough to recognize the genius of my carpentry skills, that’s who.”_ )

While Cas was working, Dean spent most of the evening making end cuts of some 2x4s for a design he had in mind; he’d seen a picture of an end-grain table with cuts of wood laid out in a herringbone design, and had been itching to try it. By the time Cas had finished his second table and started rifling through Dean’s sketches for something else to build, Dean had enough scraps done to begin building his own piece.

It was nice, working side by side with him. This whole idea had been kind of a long shot, but it seemed to work. Cas actually seemed better. Calmer. More focused than Dean had seen him in weeks.

So maybe Dean had never been to college, but that didn’t mean he didn’t occasionally have his strokes of genius.

After showering together, quick and perfunctory, they crawled into bed. Dean kept to his side, not daring to hope for anything more.

He’d almost drifted off to sleep when Cas’ voice interrupted the silence. “Dean? You still awake?” he murmured.

“Yeah.” Dean stifled a yawn. “You?”

“No. I’m talking in my sleep.”

Dean smiled sleepily. “Smart ass.”

“I try.” Cas was quiet a long time, until Dean was absolutely sure that Cas had drifted off to sleep. Instead, Cas rolled over, tucked himself into Dean’s side, and wrapped an arm around him. “Thank you. For tonight. You always seem to know just what to do.”

Dean tightened his arms around Cas; he’d missed this so much. “Cas, I got news for you. I have no idea what I’m doing here half the time.”

“You’re better at this than you think.” Cas placed a soft kiss against Dean’s chest. “Tonight gave me time to think, to put things in perspective. Not that I know what to do any more than I did before, but at least now I don’t feel like I’m drowning. Spending the evening in your shop wasn’t exactly what I’d wanted to do tonight, but it turned out to be exactly what I needed.”

“Yeah? I’m glad.” Dean kissed the top of Cas’ head in return. “You scared the shit out of me, you know. Not just tonight, but, you know…”

“I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Dean.”

“Hey.” Dean squeezed Cas’ shoulder. “Stop that. You don’t have to apologize. Just, you know, talk to me, will you? Don’t try to handle stuff like this on your own. It’s you and me now, you got it?”

Cas nodded against Dean’s chest. “I got it.”

“Good,” Dean smiled. “Now get some sleep. We got some tables to stain and polyurethane tomorrow.”

“One more thing? Before we go to sleep?”

“What is it?”

Cas spoke barely above a whisper, almost as if he was afraid to ask one more thing of Dean. “Make love to me?”

In answer, Dean rolled Cas over and kissed him with all the love and reassurance and passion and comfort that he could muster. If Cas didn’t know by now, Dean needed to show him, convince him any way he could – there was nothing that Cas could ever ask of him that would be too much, no request that would ever go unheeded. Whatever Cas needed, Dean would give to him.

Because this man underneath him, this man gasping softly against Dean’s lips as they moved against one another, held Dean’s heart in his hands. And Dean was quite certain now that he never wanted it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you all were hoping for a big confrontation with Balthazar and all I can say is... be patient.


	29. Chapter 29

Cas had never been so glad to see a bunch of high school girls.

After spending the past few summers studying, he just wasn’t so used to having that much time on his hands. And you know what they say about idle hands being the devil’s workshop and all. Well, in his case it was an idle mind, but still. Maybe that’s why he’d gotten so depressed and moody – he’d been too idle. Now that school finally started back, Cas had more than enough to keep himself occupied.

And that was just what he needed. Something to keep his mind off Balthazar.

As crazy as it sounded, though, spending that one night with Dean in the wood shop actually helped; just being able to step outside his own thoughts and indecisions for a while was a godsend. Cas now completely understood why Dean loved woodworking so much. It was quite therapeutic. He still had no idea what to do about Balthazar, but at least now he no longer felt like he was being crushed by the weight of his memories.

Being back in his classroom at Garrison felt good. Having a new group of students to teach and get to know, getting lost in lesson planning and grading homework, even seeing Naomi and Rachel again had Cas smiling.

Being assigned to parking lot duty the first week back, though? That definitely blew.

All the teachers there took turns; it wasn’t that. The 91 degree heat, though? Fucking hell. Cas pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped the sweat from his forehead, smiling to himself despite his misery as he made a mental note to tell Dean that _yes, you fucker, I did need it after all, and no, I don’t care if I look like a grandpa; I’m not using my shirt sleeve like some Philistine._

Cas glanced at his watch. Just 5 more minutes, and he could ditch the loafers and tie, take a nice, long shower, kick back on the sofa with a beer, and enjoy some trash TV and Chinese takeout. Or maybe pizza; Cas didn’t care, as long as he didn’t have to cook it or clean up after it. He was done being responsible for the week.

A familiar, low rumble in the parking lot suddenly made Cas glance up, scanning the few remaining vehicles winding their way toward the front of the school. Was that…? Yes, it was. Cas’ face split into a wide grin as the Impala pulled up beside him; this was quite a nice surprise.

“Hey there, handsome,” Dean called out. “You looking for a good time?”

Cas walked forward and leaned into the open passenger window. “Shouldn’t that be my line, since I’m the one standing on the street?”

“You sure know a lot about this, huh? Should I be worried?”

“About my previous job hustling pervy old men for drug money?” Cas shook his head. “Nah. I haven’t done that in… at least a month.”

“Hey, who you calling old man, old man? You’re the one dating someone who’s younger and hotter,” Dean winked.

“You’re 5 months younger than me, Dean. And you are most certainly _not_ hotter.”

“Yeah, only ‘cause I’m all cool and cozy with the AC and you’re out in the heat sweating like a pig. So, you ready to ditch this place and get the weekend started?”

Cas glanced at his watch. Technically he had one minute left, but screw it. He was leaving. “Give me two minutes to run inside and get my things.”

Dean nodded and pulled the Impala off to the side to find a parking spot while Cas jogged back into the school and down the hallway toward his classroom. He checked his bag to make sure he’d packed all the homework he had left to grade; Jesus, what had he been thinking assigning homework the first week of school? He sighed and latched his bag closed.

“Excuse me, Mr. Novak,” a deep voice called out from the doorway. “I think I may need a little after-school tutoring. I’m having some problems with my studies.”

Cas schooled his features, wiping off the smile that split his face and turned around. “What seems to be the problem, Mr…?”

“Winchester.” Dean sauntered over and boxed Cas in against the desk. “Well, you see, I’m having a little trouble concentrating.”

Cas nodded, trying his best to keep his composure. “That is very serious indeed. Mr. Winchester. Perhaps I could recommend some exercises to increase mental acuity and improve your attention span.”

Dean leaned in further. “I don’t think that’s gonna help this particular problem,” he murmured, his lips nearly grazing Cas’ neck. “You see, I’m kinda hot for teacher.”

The laugh exploded from Cas’ lips before he could stop it. “Seriously? You’re quoting Van Halen at me while you’re trying to seduce me?”

“Hey! That’s some classic shit right there.” Dean reached down and ran a finger along the zipper of Cas’ pants. “You sure it’s not working?”

“Sorry.” Cas shook his head, still trying to stifle a giggle. “What else you got?”

“Well, I did have this little I-forgot-my-homework-and-need-to-be-punished thing in mind.” Dean waggled his eyebrows for effect. “You could bend me over your desk and show me the error of my ways.”

“Not with the Christian Club meeting right next door. Try again.”

“Holy shit!” Dean jumped back a good two feet. “They’re meeting on a Friday afternoon? It’s the first week of school!”

“I’m kidding.” Cas smiled and gave Dean a quick peck. “Actually, I’m exhausted. It’s been a hectic week, and I’d just like to head home.”

“Okay, Plan C then.” Dean picked up Cas’ bag and slung it over his shoulder and held out his hand for Cas to take. “In that case, how about we head back to my place…”

“Sounds good so far.” Cas threaded his fingers through Dean’s and followed him into the hallway. “Should we stop and pick up something for dinner on the way?”

“Already taken care of. Got a new recipe simmering in the slow cooker. How does buffalo chicken mac and cheese sound?”

Cas huffed a laugh. “Like I’ll be breathing fire all night.”

“I made it mild, just for you.” Dean squeezed Cas’ hand, sending a wave of warmth through Cas’ body, how well Dean knew him. “And for dessert…”

“Yeah?” Cas fully expected Dean’s answer to be something along the exaggerated lines of “10 inches of Winchester covered in chocolate sauce.” But once again, Dean surprise him.

“I might’ve stopped by this bakery that Benny recommended and picked up some beignets.”

Cas had to stifle the urge to kiss Dean senseless right there outside the front office.

“And then I thought, since you’ve been working so hard, we could celebrate the end of your first week with a little full-body massage.”

“Mmm. That sounds nice. And after?”

“Tomorrow’s your birthday. Whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?”

“Yep.”

“And if all I wanted was to curl up and go to sleep?”

Dean smiled. “Babe, if what you really want for your birthday is a nap, then that is what you will get. I’ll even let you use my pajamas.”

Cas smiled and squeezed Dean’s hand. “You’re the best.”

Dean threw Cas a wink as he opened the front door, waving Cas through. “I’m so glad you finally figured that out.”

Yeah, Cas was too.

 

* * *

 

Cas groaned as he rolled out of bed the next morning. Every muscle in his body ached. He couldn’t help smiling to himself, though, as he willed his legs to work.

Dean hadn’t been kidding about the massage, like Cas had originally thought. But then the massage had segued into some of the most intense sex Cas had ever experienced. He hadn’t come that hard in… well, he had never come that hard.

_So this is what it feels like to be fucked out,_ Cas thought to himself as he filched through Dean’s underwear drawer, muscles protesting every movement.

The smell of coffee and bacon began to drift up from downstairs. Cas donned a pair of Dean’s boxers and descended the stairs slowly, wincing every time he moved. Dean was at the stove, humming to himself as he flipped pancakes on the griddle pan. He turned and smiled when he heard Cas come in. “Hey, babe. Happy birthday!”

Cas walked over and gave Dean a quick peck before heading straight for the percolator. “Smells amazing. What are you making?”

“Maple bacon pancakes with maple bourbon butter sauce.”

“Oh my God, that sounds good,” Cas groaned.

“Found it on the internet.” He flipped the last few pancakes onto the warming plate and set it to the side, and began rifling through the cabinets. “I don’t have anything to put this sauce in without making a mess, though. I need one of those fancy syrup things they have at restaurants.”

Cas walked over to the cabinet next to Dean and pulled out a Pyrex measuring cup. “Try this.”

Dean smiled and gave Cas a kiss on the cheek. “You’re a genius.”

“I try.”

Dean brought the food to the banquette and served Cas up a big pile of pancakes and slathered them in buttery syrup. Cas didn’t even try to stifle the sexual sounds that came out of his mouth as he tasted the sweet-salty delicacy.

“Good?” Dean asked.

Cas moaned out a yes. “Forget the lobster rolls. This is now the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth, hands down.”

“You mean second best?” Dean winked.

“Sorry, Dean. Your dick has now been relegated to second place. Holy shit, this is good.”

“You didn’t seem to mind my second-place dick last night.” Dean waggled his eyebrows and gave an exaggerated lecherous grin. “In fact, I seem to remember the words ‘best orgasm ever’ being said. That was you, wasn’t it?”

Cas shrugged and shoved another forkful into his mouth. “There weren’t pancakes last night.”

“And if there had been?”

Cas stopped, and…

“Holy shit, you’re really thinking about it aren’t you?” Dean laughed. “You’re actually picturing me fucking you while eating pancakes?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of drizzling syrup all over you and sucking you off while eating bits of pancake off your body, but I guess that works too.” Cas picked up his coffee to sip. “So, what time are you picking up Ben?”

“Tomorrow, actually. I asked Lisa to switch so I could take you out tonight.”

“Wait, you finally told Lisa we’re dating?”

Dean cast his eyes downward, patently avoiding Cas’ questioning gaze. “Not yet. But I swear, I’m going to. It’s just, I’ve asked her for so many favors lately, you know? After the Boston trip, and now tonight, I just want to wait for the right time, is all.”

Cas nodded. He understood, really he did. He just didn’t like the idea of being someone’s secret, even if it was only one single person in Dean’s life who didn’t know. “Very well. But I don’t think I’m up for going out tonight.”

“You aren’t? Why not?”

“Dean, this may come as a shock to you, but I really am kind of worn out from last night.”

“It’s nothing big and fancy, I promise. A couple of ibuprofen and a nap, and you’ll be fine.” Dean must’ve noticed the look on Cas’ face, because he stopped and sighed, a flash of guilt momentarily crossing his features. “Look, if you really want to stay in, I can call everyone and cancel. It’s not a problem.”

“Everyone? Like, who?” Cas’ curiosity got the better of him, in spite of himself.

“Just friends and family. Sammy and Sarah, Gabe and Kali, Anna and Michael. And Pam. Well, and Ellen and Jo, too. I thought we could all meet at the Roadhouse for birthday burgers and beer.”

Cas thought about it for a moment. “Is this some kind of surprise thing, and I just ruined it?”

“No,” Dean laughed. “I was gonna tell you. But seriously, if you’re too worn out from being so expertly fucked into the mattress last night…”

“Oh my God, you’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“God, I hope not. Because I’d sure like to do it again.”

“Me too.” Cas smiled shyly over the rim of his mug. “Okay, fine. Birthday burgers and beer at the Roadhouse. One condition, though.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to serenade me. In front of everyone.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You know the Roadhouse isn’t a karaoke bar, right?”

Cas shrugged. “I don’t care. You’re friends with the owner; I’m sure she’ll fudge the rules.”

Dean let out a long, overly dramatic sigh, “Okay, fine. But I get to pick the song.”

 

* * *

 

“So, you having a good birthday, Cas?” Ellen asked as she grabbed his pint glass to refill it.

“You know?” Cas leaned in conspiratorially across the bar. “Don’t tell Dean, but I think this might be one of my best birthdays ever.”

“Hanging out here, with these losers?” Ellen raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You sure about that, hon?”

Cas glanced across the bar, where Gabe and Michael were doing shots with Sam and Dean. He looked toward the corner booth where Kali and Anna were laughing hysterically with Sarah and Pam.

He’d never had this before. Balthazar was an only child, and his parents had retired to the French countryside years ago. Castiel had never met them. So to see his family hanging out with his boyfriend’s family?

It was pretty freaking awesome, as Dean would say.

“Yeah,” Cas smiled. Dean would probably say it was “ridiculously romantic” and call him a sap for saying it, but he didn’t care. “What can I say? I’m a man of few needs.”

“Well, that’s a good thing, since Dean didn’t even get you anything,” Jo called out from across the bar where she was filling a pitcher of beer for the boys.

“Hey! Shut it, half-pint. I got him this party!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We all bought our own dinner, Dean.”

“And I gave him a massage last night!”

“Which you probably used to get laid,” Jo countered.

Gabriel winced. “Geez, guys. TMI.”

“And I made him breakfast! Maple bacon pancakes!”

“Damn, that does sound good,” Michael conceded.

“They were,” Cas nodded, sliding up behind Dean and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Thank you, Dean.”

“See?” Dean twisted around in his seat and pulled Cas into the vee of his legs. “He likes my present was way better than any of yours.”

“Speak for yourself, Dean-O.” Gabe gestured pointedly with his pint glass. “My light saber chopsticks were genius. I totally win! Way better than that dumb old book that the Moose here bought you.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s a book of political cartoons from World War 2, Shortstack. I can see how that might be over your head.”

“And if Sam holds the book at chest level, it will be,” Michael deadpanned.

“Come on, guys. Nothing about me just looking at the pictures?” Gabe feigned shock. “I can’t believe you didn’t touch that one.”

“Nah, too easy.” Dean slid a hand around Cas’ waist and pulled him in closer.

“Regardless, gentlemen.” Cas cleared his throat as he wriggled out of Dean’s grasp. “I do believe Dean hasn’t given me his final present yet.”

“Aww, and here I didn’t think he could possibly top the big fat nothing he’s already given you, there, bro.”

“Watch it, Frodo.” Dean got up from his seat and held out a hand. “Cas, may I have this dance?”

“Dean, you’re supposed to serenade me. In front of everyone. Not pull me into a dark corner and sing in my ear.”

Dean just smiled and turned toward the bar. “Ellen?”

Ellen reached over the countertop and handed Dean a wireless microphone. Dean took it in one hand and pulled Cas toward the center of the room with the other. He switched the microphone on and tapped it a few times to make sure the sound came through.

“Listen, I’m not gonna make some fancy speech or anything, just.” Dean stopped and cleared his throat. “We’re all here to celebrate this man right here, and I happen to think he’s pretty amazing, so, um, here goes. Ellen?”

The music started over the bar’s PA system, and Cas smiled as Dean placed his free hand on Cas’ waist and began to slow dance. What had he been just saying to himself about Dean not doing anything ridiculously romantic?

The opening guitar solo faded and Dean began to sing into the microphone.

_It's late in the evening; she's wondering what clothes to wear._  
_She puts on her make-up and brushes her long blonde hair._  
_And then she asks me, “Do I look all right?”_  
_And I say, “Yes, you look wonderful tonight._

Cas wanted to whisper to Dean that he was a complete idiot, in that I-love-you-and-I-can’t-believe-you’re-actually-doing-this kinda way, but he found his brain to be completely short-circuiting with the way Dean was looking at him as he sang.

_We go to a party and everyone turns to see_  
_This beautiful lady that's walking around with me._  
_And then she asks me, “Do you feel all right?”_  
_And I say, “Yes, I feel wonderful tonight.”_

Cas could feel everyone’s eyes on him and Dean, dancing to this ridiculous little ditty that masqueraded as a love song; Cas had always disliked this song, and he wanted to laugh at how utterly absurd the whole situation was. They were in a bar, for pete’s sake, not at some school dance. But Dean the way Dean looked at him unblinkingly as he sang, Cas had to admit, it was kinda sweet.

_I feel wonderful because I see_  
_The love light in your eyes._  
_And the wonder of it all_  
_Is that you just don't realize how much I love you._

Cas pulled Dean closer as Eric Clapton began his guitar solo. “So, a song about a guy getting so drunk at a party his wife has to carry him home? You trying to warn me about tonight’s future events?”

Dean’s eyes crinkled as he laughed. “That is not what the song is about, Cas.”

“It is, Dean,” Cas teased. “Sorry to break it to you.”

“Is not. It’s a love song, you cynic,” Dean insisted. “Shut up, I gotta sing.”

_It's time to go home now and I've got an aching head,_  
_So I give her the car keys and she helps me to bed._

Dean’s brow furrowed a moment as those words sunk in, and then his composure collapsed. He laid his forehead against Cas’ shoulder as he began laughing so hard his shoulders were shaking, and Cas was helpless to avoid joining in. The music wound to a close and everyone clapped sporadically, not quite sure why the song had ended with the two men laughing in each other’s arms and not with Dean singing the rest of the song.

“You’re an asshole, Cas,” Dean chuckled as he turned the microphone upside-down and switched it off.

“Why am I the asshole?”

“Because you ruined that song for me! That sweet little song about this guy singing about how much he loves his girl, and you ruined it. Man, I will never listen to that the same way again.” Dean wound his arm around Cas and started back toward the bar.

“Nice singing, Dean.” Ellen took the mic from Dean and dropped hit behind the counter. “I never realized before what a barrel of laughs that song was before.”

“Hey, blame Cas. It’s all his fault.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Cas held up his hands in innocence. “All I did was point out the song’s true meaning. It’s not my fault you couldn’t handle it.”

“What?" Pam asked. "That it’s about some guy getting so piss-drunk that his girlfriend has to take him home and clean up his puke?”

“See?” Cas waved a hand at his friend. “Pam agrees with me.”

“You two are insane. I’m going to take a piss.”

Cas gave Dean a peck on the cheek. “Ever the romantic.”

Dean shot him a wink. “You know you love it.”

“Yeah. I do.” Cas smiled as Dean walked away, and grabbed a seat at the bar next to Pam. He hadn’t gotten to talk to her much this evening. “Thanks for coming tonight, Pam.”

“No problem, sweetie.” She patted a hand on his knee. “The girls and I actually had a lot of fun talking about you guys.”

“Oh, God,” Cas groaned. “What did they tell you?”

“I’ll never tell.” Pam took a swig of her beer. “I can tell you, though, that I just got a new client. Anna and Michael are talking about moving.”

“Really? They never mentioned it.”

Pam shrugged. “Their kids are getting older; time to upgrade. Teenagers need more space, you know.”

“They’re not teenagers yet, Pam.”

“You blink, and they will be.” Pam set her glass down and turned in her seat toward Cas “Seriously, though. Last time I saw you you looked pretty bad off. I take it things are better?”

Cas nodded slowly. “Much.”

“You ever decide what to do about Balthazar?”

“Did you say Balthazar?” Sam came up behind Pam and grabbed the pitched off the counter. “As in Balthazar Roché?”

“Yes,” Cas frowned. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Well, used to. I interned at Jefferson Haddaway the summer before my senior year at Stanford. Nice guy. Kinda crazy, though, you know? Shocked the hell out of all of us when we heard he ran off with his paralegal last year.”

“He what?” Pam practically shrieked. Cas felt all the breath leave his body. He couldn’t breathe; he was going to pass out, right here.

“Yeah, he and his paralegal – Ruby, I think her name was. They eloped last September. Last I heard he was doing immigration law somewhere up north.”

“Boston,” Cas managed to choke out.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Sam nodded enthusiastically, completely oblivious to the fact that Cas was trying not to hyperventilate.

Dean noticed, though, upon his return. “Cas, what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

Pam sighed. “Your brother here over heard us mention Balthazar, and revealed he used to work with him. Apparently Balthazar and his paralegal eloped last year. Last _September_ ,” she added pointedly.

Dean’s eyes widened as his face turned red, his veins popping out. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he yelled. “ _That’s_ why that fucking asshole ran off?”

“Dean how do _you_ know Balthazar?” Sam looked back and forth between his brother and Cas, his face furrowed in complete confusion. “What’s going on here?”

“Balthazar is Cas’ dick of an ex, the one who left him last year without a word,” Dean fumed. “The one I’m gonna fucking kill with my bare hands.”

Sam’s face went white as realization set in. “Oh, God. Cas. I’m so sorry, I had no idea. Jesus, I knew he was bi… but he never mentioned any guys; I mean, not anyone specific… and then Ruby, and… oh, God.” Sam looked like he was about to be sick.

“Sam, shut up,” Dean barked. “Cas, I’m taking you home.”

Cas didn’t want to go home. In fact, he didn’t want to get up off his barstool, because he was completely sure that his legs would give out and he would collapse. Everyone was staring at him with some mixture of pity and concern on their faces. He wanted them to stop. He wanted this all to stop.

Balthazar left. He left because he married someone else. Someone else that he had been dating behind Cas’ back. Did she know about Cas, and went on dating Balthazar anyway? Or was she as completely in the dark as Cas was? Cas' head was swirling again; there were too many questions churning again, and he was drowning. He was going to drown, right here in front of everyone he knew and loved.

_So, you wanted to know all this time. Now you know._

Jesus Christ. Balthazar had been cheating on him. Suddenly all those late nights at the office not answering his phone, claiming to be too busy for Cas to bring him dinner; all those times Cas had texted him asking to meet for lunch which Balthazar would pointedly ignore and then answer hours later, saying he was “in a meeting;” all those long hours he put in trying to “make partner”– it all made sense now. Everything slotted into place.

Cas was going to be sick.

He glanced around the faces gathered, at this group of people who’d come to celebrate with him, and he made a decision. Balthazar was not going to ruin this night. Cas took a deep, cleansing breath, swallowed the bile that threatened to come up, and squeezed Dean’s hand. “It’s okay, Dean. I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Dean looked some mixture of skeptical and furious that would probably make Cas laugh if he hadn’t just had his world turned completely upside-down and then right-side-up again.

“Yes, I’m sure. So Balthazar was cheating on me. That’s not my fault, is it? No. He’s the asshole here, not me.” Cas stood up and took one more deep breath. “So, is this a party, or what? Ellen, I think we need another round. On me.”

He just wished he believed his words as easily as everyone else had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The phrases "ridiculously romantic" and "ever the romantic" come, of course, from my other obsession, Queer as Folk.
> 
> The massage/sex scene from this chapter is posted separately as the first timestamp for this fic. I decided not to include it here because it was almost as long as this chapter itself. You can read it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4663026).
> 
> As always, thank you all for reading and commenting!


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for pain and feels.

Cas never saw it coming.

In retrospect, he should have. He should have known, given how his birthday had ended, that something else would happen to fuck things up even more.

*

Cas missed Dean like crazy.

This was the longest he and Dean had been apart since they’d started dating. It was completely unavoidable, though; Cas had spent the entire week before Labor Day weekend giving the first round of tests in every class, so he’d spent every night at his own house, staying up until all hours grading papers. Dean, meanwhile, was busy scrambling to get a build done so he could take Ben camping over the holiday weekend; they’d missed the opportunity over the summer, what with the trip to Boston and Dean’s furniture business taking off.

The day after Labor Day it was all Cas could do to even halfway pay attention in class, knowing that when he left Garrison for the day he’d be heading straight for Dean’s house and into Dean’s arms. When 3:45 hit he couldn’t leave the building fast enough, racing through the streets and running as many lights as he could get away with. At 4:05 on the dot he pulled into Dean’s driveway, barely resisting the urge to run up the path to the front door. His fingers shook as he fumbled through his key ring to find the key to Dean’s house, when the door flew open.

Dean grabbed a handful of tie and pulled Cas through the threshold, crashing their mouths together. “Mmmf. Missed you. So much.”

“Oh God, Dean,” Cas moaned, tangling his hands in Dean’s hair as Dean grabbed two handfuls of Cas’ ass and pulled him flush. If Cas wasn’t already rock hard, he was now as Dean latched onto his neck and rocked into him. His hands drifted downwards, holding onto Dean for dear life as Dean walked them backward toward the stairs. It wasn’t until Cas grabbed two handfuls of bare skin that he realized something was amiss. “Holy fuck, Dean. You’re naked.”

“Yep,” Dean growled as he nipped Cas’ neck. “Tuesday. Naked Day.”

“Tuesday… is my house… Your house… is Thursday…” Cas panted as they made their way upstairs to Dean’s bedroom. Fuck, why were they headed for the bedroom when there was a perfectly good floor right there in the living room?

“You wanna stop and head to your place?” Dean kicked his bedroom door open and pulled Cas’ tie loose in one swift movement.

“Fuck, no.” Cas undid his belt and kicked off his pants in record time while Dean struggled with the buttons on his shirt.

“Fuck. Goddamn, why do you have so many buttons?” Frustrated, Dean grabbed two handfuls of fabric and pulled, ripping the buttons from their respective holes and sending them flying across the room. He gave Cas a gentle shove backwards and Cas landed on the mattress.

Shoes and socks went flying, boxers were tugged off, and finally, blissfully, Dean was lying on top of Cas, where he damn well should’ve been every moment of these last few weeks instead of… whatever the fuck they had been doing that kept them apart. Cas knew somewhere in the back of his mind there had to be a reason why they hadn’t been doing this nonstop for the last 2 weeks, but damned if he could think of it at the moment.

Cas pulled Dean into a feverish kiss as Dean wedged a hand between them and began stroking their cocks together in time with their movements. It was heavenly, it was blissful, but it was so not enough. “Dean, wait, stop,” Cas gasped. “Want you in me. Please. I want you to fuck me.”

“You sure?”

“Dammit, Dean, now,” Cas growled.

Dean let go of his and Cas’ erections and leaned over to grab the lube from the nightstand. He slicked up two fingers and opened Cas up, fast and frenzied and not quite enough, but neither of them cared anymore. He rolled on the condom as fast as humanly possible, slicked himself up, and slid inside.

“Oh, God,” Cas groaned as he threw his head back against the pillow. That was it, what was what he’d been missing – that delicious burn, the way Dean stretched him to his limit and filled every part of him.

“Goddammit, Cas, I missed you,” Dean murmured as he leaned over and kissed Cas, tongue fucking him in time with their movements. Dean always was a masterful kisser, and had Cas on the edge in no time. “You wanna roll over, ride me for a while? Fuck yourself on my cock while I jerk you off?”

“Next time,” Cas panted. “Too close. I need to come. Fuck, Dean, make me come.”

Dean knew exactly what he needed, grabbing Cas’ legs and lifting his hips off the mattress and fucking into him hard and fast; all Cas could do anymore was to claw at the sheets and hold on for the ride until finally, blissfully, Dean wrapped a skilled hand around Cas’ erection and it was game over. Cas cried out as he spasmed and shook, sinking back into the mattress boneless and sated.

Dean leaned back down and captured Cas’ lips with his own, his suddenly slow and languid pace a stark contrast from the desperation of moments ago. “You’re so beautiful when you come,” he whispered against Cas’ mouth.

“So are you.” Cas stroked his fingers along Dean’s back and smiled, just before wrapping an ankle around Dean’s legs and flipping them over. “Now it’s my turn to watch.”

Cas rolled his hips, keeping Dean fully seated inside him. He was so sensitive it verged on painful at the moment, but he loved to watch Dean watch him. He arched his back in the way he knew Dean loved, and when he threw his head back to expose the long line of muscle along his neck, Dean came with a shout. Cas collapsed down on top of him, keeping Dean’s cock inside him until it softened and slipped out on its own.

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas and kissed the side of his head. “Let’s never do that again.”

“Seriously? I thought that was some pretty good sex. I wouldn’t mind doing it again, myself.”

Dean swatted Cas lightly on the rear. “I meant not seeing you for two weeks, asshole. Texting you every night isn’t the same as this.”

“I know.” Cas kissed Dean’s chest. “I didn’t think today would ever get here.”

“So, why don’t you call in sick the rest of the week and we can stay here?”

Cas sighed. “I wish I could. Sadly, not everyone has the luxury of being their own boss. Some of us have other people we have to answer to.”

“Sucks for you, then. I’m an awesome boss.”

“So you’d let me have the week off for a sex vacation?”

Dean smirked. “Gotta keep morale up somehow, don’t I?”

“Yes, you’re such a humanitarian, Dean.”

 

* * *

 

Cas was awakened from his post-coital nap by his growling belly. He lifted his head just enough to sneak a peek at the clock on the nightstand; it was just after 6 p.m. He carefully untangled himself from Dean’s embrace and put his boxers and khakis back on. The shirt was a lost cause, at least until he could locate all the buttons and sew them back on, so for now he grabbed one of Dean’s t-shirts and padded downstairs to find something to make for dinner.

Thank God Dean had the sense to go grocery shopping when he’d returned from camping. Cas pulled out a loaf of bread and a selection of meats and cheeses. He smiled as he spotted a head of lettuce and a couple of tomatoes in the crisper; perhaps his gentle prodding to get Dean to eat more vegetables was actually starting to sink in. He laid out everything on the counter and set out to make himself and Dean some grilled sandwiches.

The cutting board was covered by about a week’s worth of mail that Dean had yet to go through, so Cas grabbed the pile to move it. He was about halfway to the banquette when a medium-sized envelope fell out of the stack and onto the floor. Cas dropped the stack of mail onto the table and bent down to retrieve the wayward envelope. This one had been opened, he noticed, and the lettering was fancy calligraphy, like a wedding invitation. Cas furrowed his brow, wondering who Dean knew that was getting married. He turned the envelope over to see if there was a name on the back, and his blood ran cold.

_Gordon Walker and Cassie Robinson_ , it read.

Gordon fucking Walker, who’d been one of Dean’s cronies back in high school, who’d “accidentally” bumped into Cas at lunch one day and spilled his tray all over Cas’ shirt, who’d called Cas countless homophobic slurs and shoved him into the lockers on more than one occasion.

And now he was getting married? To sweet little Cassie Robinson? Jesus fucking Christ.

Cas’ curiosity got the best of him. He pulled out the inner envelope; it was addressed to “Dean Winchester and guest.” Cas snorted. Like he and Dean would ever be caught dead at this fiasco. He pulled out the invitation and read:

 

_Ms. Cassandra Elizabeth Robinson_

_and_

_Mr. Gordon Jameson Walker_

_request the honor of your presence_

_at their marriage_

_Saturday the 8 th of October_

_at five o’clock in the evening_

_Arterra Event Gallery_

_Lawrence, KS_

_Reception to follow_

 

The RSVP card was still inside. Cas turned over the outer envelope and checked the postmark date. It was almost three weeks ago. He frowned; why hadn’t Dean declined already?

“Oh, hey. Yeah, I was gonna ask you about that.”

Cas turned to see Dean standing in the doorway. “You aren’t actually planning on going to this, are you?” he scoffed.

Dean shrugged. “Apparently they’ve invited everyone from our class. Sounds like fun.”

_Sounds like fun? Are you high?_ “Dean, there is no way in hell I’m going to voluntarily see that asshole again. After the way he treated me…”

“Cas, it was a long time ago. And you forget, I treated you that way too.”

“Yes you did, and you apologized. You came clean, you put things right, and I forgave you. Gordon has made no such effort.”

“Yeah, but Cas, you know even before I apologized, I felt like shit about it. For years. You know Gordon has to be sorry too, right? Even if he never said the words out loud?”

“Yes, well, ‘sorry’ doesn’t mean a whole hell of a lot if you keep it to yourself.”

“Come on, Cas. He invited you, didn’t he? That’s gotta be something. And wouldn’t you like to see Garth and Samandriel again? I know you haven’t seen them in years.”

“You’re right, Dean. I haven’t seen them in years, and I regret it. But you’re forgetting one thing.” Cas pulled out the inner envelope and showed it to Dean. “He didn’t invite me. He invited _you_. And ‘guest’.”

“Yeah, but you got one of these to your house, didn’t you? I mean, they invited everyone. That’s what Adam said on Facebook last week, anyway. It’s supposed to be sort of like a class reunion, only fancier. Everyone’s invited.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

Dean startled. “What do you mean, you weren’t?”

“I didn’t get one of these, Dean. So once again Gordon Walker shows how little he thinks of me.”

“Come on, Cas. I’m sure it’s not like that. Maybe he didn’t have your new address or something.”

“I moved there almost a year ago. I’m in the phone book. If he wanted to find me, it wouldn’t have taken a whole hell of a lot of detective work to do so.”

“Okay, so maybe they were including you with my invitation.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Dean, your invitation says ‘Dean and guest,’ not ‘Dean and Castiel’.”

“Yeah, but they gotta know we’re together, right?”

“Dean, you haven’t even told Lisa yet. Do you really expect me to believe that some asshole from high school that you haven’t seen in fifteen years knows?”

“Come on, Cas. Gordon may not have always been sunshine and rainbows, but he was a decent guy. I’d hardly call him an asshole.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? He called me a ‘goddamn fucking faggot’ and shoved me against the lockers so hard I sprained my elbow. I couldn’t bend my arm for a week.”

Dean stopped, his brow furrowed as he let those words sink in. “I don’t remember that.”

“Yeah? Well I do. And you know what else I remember? You standing beside him laughing your ass off.”

Dean looked like he’d been punched in the gut. “Fuck, Cas. I’m so sorry.”

“And now you have the gall to stand there and call him your friend after what he did to me? I thought we were partners, Dean.”

“Cas…”

“You know, I can accept that I’m never going to come first in your life. That honor belongs to Ben, and to Sam, and that’s fine. But I sure as hell thought I meant more to you than Gordon.”

“Cas, that’s not what I meant, and you know it. He was a good friend to me, and he helped me out of some tough spots when my dad was drunk and acting crazy. Come on, don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

“Overreacting? No, Dean. I don’t. In fact, I think I’m being quite calm about this, considering. I still have nightmares about high school. Did you know that? I have dreams where I’m forced to go back and complete one last year because it turns out I didn’t have enough credits to graduate, and I walk into those halls, and I wake up sweating. I have never in my life been made to feel more worthless than I did back then, and I have tried my damndest to move on with my life and accept that the things you and your friends said to me were not true, but you know what? They’re still there. They’ll always be there. When Balthazar left, hell, even when Lucifer left, you know what I kept saying to myself? _Of course they left, because no one’s ever gonna love you. No one wants you around_.”

Dean looked like he’d been sucker punched. “Cas, I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. You know I didn’t mean that. I told you, I didn’t mean it. You gotta believe me. I mean, shit, I thought you were past this. I thought _we_ were past this.”

Cas pinched his brow, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. “Yeah, well, it turns out it’s hard to get past something that’s such a big part of you.”

“Yeah, but Cas, it’s not a part of you. It never was. That stuff we said, that was never true. That’s not you. You gotta believe me.”

“Dean, I don’t know what to believe right now.” Cas sighed, not wanting to say the words but knowing it had to be done. “I think, in light of what’s happened… I think I need to spend some time on my own for a while.”

“Cas, wait. No…”

“I’m not saying it’s over, but I,… _fuck_. I don’t know what to think, about any of this, but I know I’m not going to figure it out with you here. So maybe if we spend some time apart for a while, it’ll be good for us.”

“Cas, listen to what you’re saying. We just did! We spent two weeks apart, and it was the worst two fucking weeks of my life. Come on, Cas. Don’t do this. We can figure this out together.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. I should go.” He turned toward the doorway to leave.

“Cas, wait.” Dean reached out and grabbed his wrist. “You do whatever you need to do, for as long as you need to do it, okay? But just know, I’ll be here. You need me, I’m here. I love you, Cas. More than you’ll ever know, and nothing is gonna change that.”

Cas had no idea what to say to that, his head was so jumbled, so he just nodded. Dean gave a gentle squeeze to his wrist and let him go. Cas exited the kitchen, grabbed his keys off the entry table, and let himself out.

It wasn’t until he climbed into the car and put his foot on the pedal that he realized his shoes were still in Dean’s bedroom.

 

* * *

 

Cas was in a daze for days.

He hadn’t meant to break things off so abruptly, even if it was only temporary, and he hadn’t meant to leave everything with Dean so up in the air. But what was he supposed to do? It had felt like an ambush, finding that invitation. It had stirred up a lot of shit that he hadn’t thought about in a long time, and he knew there was no way he’d be able to sort though it with Dean around.

He went back and forth, and back and forth again. He should call Dean and apologize for overreacting, tell him to forget the whole thing. No, Dean should be the one to apologize for even suggesting that he see Gordon again. But then again, Dean had been remorseful over his behavior; maybe Gordon would be as well. Except that Dean had reached out, Gordon hadn’t. And Gordon had very expressly _not_ invited Cas to his wedding. If bygones were to be bygones, wouldn’t he have sent an invitation anyway?

Cas went back and forth and around again, and still had no idea what to do.

He could go to the wedding with Dean. It _would_ be nice to see Garth and Samandriel again; he had remained friends with them through college, and lost touch shortly thereafter when he’d lost access to his college email account. Getting back in touch through Facebook and wishing each other a happy birthday once a year was not the same as seeing each other in person. Surely he could ignore his feelings about Gordon for one night if he got to see his friends again, right? He should be the better person here.

Only, Cas was tired of being the better person. He had always been the better person, just shutting up and taking whatever abuse was dealt him. He had never stood up for himself, not once. So, maybe he could go to the wedding with Dean and tell Gordon off for once? Tell him what an abusive bully he had been, in front of his family and friends?

No. It was Cassie’s wedding too. She had always been nice to Castiel; there was no way he would do that to her.

Which begged the question, what were these two doing together, anyway?

That was beside the point for now, though.

Cas honestly had no idea what to do. It was frustrating; he kept telling himself that leaving had been the right thing to do. It had been crazy to try to have a relationship with someone who had cut him so deeply, a cut that had never fully healed and was now apparently prone to ripping open at the most inopportune of moments leaving Cas to bleed his deepest pain all over the floor. He just needed to chalk up his relationship with Dean as a momentary lapse of judgement and move on with his life.

But on the other hand, he just plain missed Dean, that lovable dork that he ate takeout and watched geek movies with, that flew halfway across the country to see a bunch of old buildings just because Cas had asked him to, that was the best friend Cas had ever had. Not to mention a phenomenal kisser and the best sex Cas had ever had.

And that was the crux, right there: Cas had two Deans in his life: the one from his past who’d hurt him, and the one from his present whom he still loved. Cas had kept them separated, and it was too much to handle to have them suddenly come together in the shadow of a wedding invitation.

By Friday evening he was no closer to knowing what to do. The TV was on but he wasn’t paying attention. His latest book was open in his lap, but he hadn’t read a single word in hours. A sudden knock on the door shook him out of his daze. Cas padded toward the front of the house, not really in the mood for talking to people, but finding his curiosity winning out anyway.

It was Dean.

He was holding a six pack of beer in one hand and a sack of Chinese takeout in the other, wearing that same faded gray AC/DC t-shirt that he wore that first day he showed up to help Cas fix his den.

Dean cleared his throat. “Feel free to tell me to go to hell or whatever. I’m not gonna stay and interrupt your evening, I just wanted to drop this off and let you know I’m…”

Dean didn’t get to finish whatever it was he was going to say, because Cas crossed the threshold and pulled Dean into his arms.

 

* * *

 

When Cas awoke, the other half of his bed was empty. He smelled coffee, though, so Dean must have been making breakfast.

It had been an awkward night, both of them tentative and hesitant and not quite sure where to take things. Cas knew it was probably his fault, but he still didn’t quite know how to explain what was going through his head. Everything was still raw and uncertain, and it would still take time to process.

He wished he could wave a magic wand and make things better, but life didn’t work that way.

Cas donned a pair of pajama pants and joined Dean in the kitchen.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean met him in the doorway. He hesitated a moment, then leaned in and gave Cas a peck on the lips. “I heard you were up. Made you a cup of coffee.”

Cas accepted the mug and took a sip; it was perfect, just the way he liked it. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Got some omelets ready to whip up, too.” Dean turned back toward the kitchen. “I even chopped up some of those peppers and onions you got. Was just waitin’ on you to wake up before I cooked ‘em, so they’d be fresh.”

“That sounds wonderful, Dean. Thank you.” Cas sat down at his kitchen table and watched while Dean worked at the stove. Dean always looked so at ease while he cooked, like he’d been doing it all his life; Cas could imagine him doing this when he was younger, little Sam at his elbow begging for a taste and Dean telling him to wait until it was done. Or years later with Ben at his side begging to help, Lisa at the table watching her boys and smiling.

Cas wondered what Lisa would think if she knew her ex was cooking breakfast for another man.

“What’re you over there thinking so hard about?” Dean asked as he came over with two plates in his hands.

“Nothing.” Cas gave a small smile. “Just watching you cook.”

They ate mostly in silence, Cas still not knowing where to start. Dean spoke first, clearing his throat as he pushed his empty plate away. “So, Cas, I was thinking.”

Dean didn’t expound on that, so Cas asked. “About what?”

Dean took a deep breath before speaking. “Know how you always have dinner with Ben and me before you go back home for the weekend?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I was thinking, maybe this time you could… spend the night. Or, the whole weekend, actually. With Ben and me.”

“What are you saying, Dean?”

“I sent off the RSVP card for the wedding, you know. You were right; it’s time I put that part of my life behind me, for good. What I really want more than anything is to start the rest of my life, with you. You and me and Ben. I want us to be a family, Cas.”

Cas felt the breath knocked out of him; this was coming out of nowhere. He and Dean had just spent the week apart on the verge of a breakup, and now Dean was throwing this out there? I mean, _fuck_. Dean had just asked him to move in. In Cas’ kitchen over omelets and coffee. Sure, when he and Balthazar had decided to move in together it was while Balthazar was getting dressed to return home after they’d had sex. Cas had been half-joking; he didn’t think Balthazar would say yes.

And, more than that, Cas had hoped that when it happened again with someone else it would be more meaningful, more thought-out, like a marriage proposal. That whoever-it-was had agonized over it with his friends or family to make sure he was doing the right thing, that he’d plan out a special evening and make sure everything was perfect before popping the question.

Not throw it out there as a last-ditch effort to keep from breaking up, which was what this felt like.

“Cas, look,” Dean started. “I know this is kinda sudden, so if you want to take some time and think about it, that’s okay. It doesn’t have to be tonight, or this weekend. I just thought…”

“Does Lisa know?” Cas interrupted.

“What?”

“Does Lisa know? About us? If I remember correctly, as of last week she still didn’t know you and I were dating, or that you were with a man, period. And now you’re asking me to move in with you? Don’t you think she has a right to know?”

“Cas, you know what? I'm tired or worrying about Lisa. Fuck her. She left me, remember? She doesn’t have a right to an opinion on who I live with or who I fuck.”

“Dean, she’s the mother of your son. Your son that you and I would be living with. You and she have a custody arrangement that you both agreed upon in court. Don’t you think that you should’ve discussed this with her?”

“She didn’t discuss getting married with me, so why should I?”

“No, but she did tell you when she started dating him. And she told you when she agreed to marry him. You, on the other hand, did neither of those things.”

“I told Ben! I told him before we even had our first date!”

“No, you didn’t. Ben figured it out on his own. The only person you told was Sam, and that was only after Sarah had discovered us by accident. And now you’re keeping it from Lisa?”

“Lisa’s my past, Cas. You’re my future.”

“No, Lisa’s your present. She’s your family, Dean, whether you like it or not. And I won’t be your dirty little secret.” Cas got up from the table, not quite sure where he was storming off to, but sure he couldn’t sit there across from Dean anymore.

“Come on, Cas, that’s not fair.”

Cas stopped and turned around. “No, Dean. It isn’t.”

“So, what? You want me to call her up right now and tell her? Will that make you feel better?”

“Dean, I think you’re missing the point. You always put family first; it’s why you stayed married for so long, even when it was clear to both of you that your marriage wasn’t working, because your family came first. And now you want me to move in with you, to be a family? Family doesn’t keep secrets like this, Dean.” Cas sighed. “Well, maybe some do, but quite frankly, that’s not the kind of family I want to be a part of.”

Dean sank back into his chair, defeated. He ran his hands through his hair, rubbing his face, and blew out a breath. “So what are you saying here, Cas?”

“I think you know, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes widened as the implication of those words sank in. “So this is it? You’re really gonna break up with me because I never got around to telling my ex-wife about you?”

“Dean, come on. You and I are clearly on different paths at the moment. Maybe we should spend some time apart, some real time apart, and figure things out.”

Dean got up and crossed the kitchen, taking Cas’ hands in his own. “I don’t want to be apart. Cas, I need you. And you need me. Maybe you don’t want to, but you do.”

“No, Dean, I think what we both need is to just be alone for a while. Let’s face it, when you and I got together we were both vulnerable, both reeling over some serious breakups. You’d been with Lisa for twelve years. I’d been with Balthazar, off and on, for about as long. Neither one of us really knows how to be alone.”

“But I don’t want to be alone, Cas, and I know you don’t either, not really. Cas, you and I are so much stronger together than apart. Don’t throw this away because of this stupid mistake I made.”

“It’s more than that, Dean.” Cas sighed, pulling his hands away from Dean’s, steeling himself for the words that he knew would break Dean’s heart. “The truth is, you and I were never meant to cross paths. We were never supposed to see each other again, never supposed to become part of each other’s lives. You and I were just never meant to be.”

Dean’s face twisted in anguish. “But we did, Cas. We did cross paths.”

“And maybe we will again. But for now, I think it’s best if we continue on apart.”

Dean just stood there a moment, looking as if he was running down a mental list of arguments. In the end, he just nodded in reluctance, finally accepting Cas’ decision. He turned around, looking completely lost for a moment as he idly ran a hand through his hair, eventually shuffling into the living room. Cas followed; the least he could do was see Dean to the door after all that had happened. Dean donned his jacket and pulled his keys out of his pocket with shaky hands. “You take care of yourself, Cas, okay?”

“You too, Dean.” Cas knew this was for the best, but it still hurt to see Dean about to walk out of his door and his life.

“Fuck it, come here.” Dean opened his arms and pulled Cas into a hug, placing a soft kiss on the side of his head. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad we crossed paths. I’ll never forget you, Cas, and I’ll never stop loving you,” he whispered as he let go. “Goodbye, Cas.” Dean turned and walked out.

Cas told himself that it was for the best.

 


	31. Chapter 31

That was probably the worst goddamned day of Dean’s life, when he walked out of Cas’ house.

It was far worse than when Lisa had left him; at least she’d had the decency to take Ben with her so that Dean could wallow in solitude. Cas, on the other hand, had dumped his ass a mere two hours before he had to pick up Ben for the weekend. Three whole days he had to keep it together and pretend that the best thing that had ever happened to him was over.

Cas had said it wasn’t forever, that maybe they would cross paths again someday, but come on. Dean had to face it – Cas was right. People like Cas just didn’t end up with people like Dean. People who were that wonderful and sexy and smart were also smart enough not to get mixed up with divorced guys with a shit-ton of baggage who deserved every shitty thing they got.

He had no idea how he made it though that first weekend without Ben noticing anything. Or hell, maybe Ben did notice and decided to leave it alone. Whatever the case, Dean was grateful that he didn’t have to talk about it. And when Tuesday rolled around and he dropped Ben off at school, he had his latest build to keep him occupied. It was easy to get lost in the details of measuring and cutting, sanding and staining, Metallica’s _Master of Puppets_ drowning out the occasional pull when his subconscious tried to remind him of the times Cas spent in his shop with him.

Sam and Sarah knew something was up, but they didn’t say anything either, thank fuck. It was hard not to miss the fact that Sunday dinner at their house with Dean and Cas and Ben suddenly turned into dinner with just Dean and Ben, but nothing was ever said about it. The best Dean could guess was that he must’ve had “I don’t want to fucking talk about it” etched all over his face, because they never once brought it up or asked what happened. Even Blake refrained from asking where her Unca Cas was. It damn near broke Dean’s heart to think about his brother or sister-in-law having to sit down and tell her that Unca Cas wasn’t coming around anymore and to please not ask Unca Dean about it, but he was thankful for it nonetheless.

September trudged ever-so-slowly into October. Cas never called, but that was okay. Dean never expected him to. No, this was Dean’s life now, and he just had to get used to it. Had to find some way to forget that for just a little while he had something perfect, and he had fucked it up beyond measure. Things weren’t all bad, though. He had 2 businesses, both doing well. He had Sam and Sarah and Blake. He had his son. Life was good.

Well not _good_ per se, but life was, well… it was.

His new routine was one of complete numbness. Work during the day, work some more at night, try to catch a few hours’ sleep without thinking about how empty the other half of the bed was, repeat. Food ceased to have any sort of taste at all, so most days Dean didn’t bother unless someone shoved something in his face. He had enough sense to stay away from alcohol; Dean may have been dumb about a lot of things in his life, but he was smart enough not to turn into his father.

Well, okay, there _was_ that one night last week when he got a very-late-night email from Etsy that one of his pieces had sold, only to discover that it was the set of tables that Cas had built. Seeing that photo on his phone hurt worse than just about anything, and definitely called for a little liquid forgetfulness.

He was only vaguely aware that he may or may not have made a phone call in the middle of the night; Dean just hoped that whoever was unlucky enough to be on the other end of his drunken ramblings had enough compassion to keep their mouth shut about it and never mention it to him, ever.

Because Dean didn’t want to fucking talk about it.

 

* * *

 

Another weekend with Ben came to a close, and so the two Winchesters hopped into the Impala to head to Lisa’s; Dean hadn’t been aware it was Ben’s fall break until he’d woken Ben up early for school the day before and was promptly told off. He’d decided to let Ben’s language slide; it was Dean’s own fault for not paying attention, anyway.

Lisa usually didn’t do much more than wave politely from inside the doorway, but this time there she was, sitting on the porch swing sipping on a glass of what Dean presumed to be iced tea. She gave Dean a smile and a friendly wave as Ben exited the Impala and went inside. Dean waved back, trying his best to smile but probably failing miserably. Lisa frowned and waved him over.

This was a bad idea, right? Dean shut off the engine and followed the path to the porch anyway. Cas had been right, though; Lisa was family, and you didn’t ignore family when they were trying to be nice to you. Dean winced as he realized his mind had so quickly gone to thoughts of Cas, and swallowed down the pang that sliced through his gut. He painted on his friendliest façade and waved once again as he climbed the porch steps. “Hey, Lis.”

“Hey, yourself,” she smiled. “You want something to drink?”

“Nah. I’m good.”

Lisa frowned, studying his face way too intently. “Are you?”

“Yeah. Sure,” he sniffed dismissively. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because Ben tells me you’ve been walking around like a zombie for the past month.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Dean groaned. Ben shouldn’t have to shoulder Dean’s bullshit. He was gonna have to do better about keeping his shit to himself. “It’s been a rough coupl’a weeks. I’ll, uh… I’ll do better, though. Next weekend. I promise.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Dean shook his head, turning toward the yard, patently avoiding her gaze. “Not especially.”

Lisa nodded, and Dean started off down the steps.

“Is this about Cas?” she called out after him, and Dean froze. “Dean, did the two of you break up?”

 

* * *

 

“Cas! Cas, come on, I know you’re in there! Your car’s still in the driveway!”

Cas trudged to the door and swung it open. “Goddammit, Gabriel Milton, can’t you take a fucking hint? I want to be left alone.”

“Yeah? Well, tough shit. You’re going to let me in, and you’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Cas swung the door open wide enough to let Gabe in and crossed his arms, feigning an air of nonchalance. He knew Gabe would see right through it, but at the moment he didn’t care. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No idea what I’m talking about? Do I really need to regale you with tales of Freckles drunk dialing me at 3:00 in the morning last week? Because I will. I fact, why don’t I go back home and call you at 3 a.m. tomorrow so you can get the full experience?”

Dean was hurting? Good. He deserved it, after what he’d done. He should not, however, be taking it out on Gabe in the middle of the night. “I’m sorry, Gabe. He shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”

“You wanna tell me what ‘this’ is now?”

Cas flopped down onto the sofa and pulled his knees up to his chest. He didn’t want to talk about this, but he presumed he had no choice now. “Dean and I broke up.”

“Yeah, Sherlock, I picked up on that.”

“Actually, I should be the one calling you that, since you’re the one who deduced…”

“It doesn’t matter which one of us is Sherlock! For fuck’s sake, Cas, last time I saw you two I thought I was gonna puke glitter from all the hearts and rainbows floating around. Next thing I know Dean is calling me in the middle of the night telling me to ‘take good care of his little angel.’ Now can you just tell me why, already?”

“Does it really matter why? We just weren’t meant to be.”

Gabe sat down next to Cas. “I don’t believe that for a second, but let’s put that aside for now and start from the beginning. I’m taking it you two had a fight?”

Cas nodded.

“And apparently it was serious enough for you to suggest breaking up?”

“How do you know it was my idea? Maybe he was the one who broke it off.”

“Cas, if that was the case, you’d be the one slobbering over the phone in the middle of the night at the bottom of a bottle of Jack instead of him. So the question is, what could you two possibly have to fight about after just three months that would be serious enough for you to end the best relationship you’ve ever had?”

Cas sank further down into the sofa and turned his head away from Gabe, staring at the front wall. “I’m pretty fucked if that’s the best relationship I’ve ever had.”

“No, Cas, you were goddamned lucky is what you were. So what the fuck happened?”

Cas sighed. “It’s not important. Just, suffice to say, I finally stood up for myself.”

Gabe’s eyes narrowed as he stared laser-focused at Cas. “Against who? Your boyfriend, or your high school bully?”

“They’re the same person, Gabe.” Cas just shook his head, dropping his eyes toward his lap. “I tried to keep them separated, tell myself that Dean wasn’t that person anymore, but in the end I was wrong.”

“What are you talking about? What did he do?”

“He once again showed his true colors, is what he did.” Cas relayed the events of the previous weeks – seeing the wedding invitation, being shocked and disgusted to find out that Dean wanted to attend, briefly reconciling only to find out that Dean still hadn’t told Lisa.

Gabe was silent the entire time, listening intently, nodding along, quietly contemplating when Cas had concluded the story. Then he finally looked over at Cas and asked, “Seriously? That’s it?”

“I’m not going to be his dirty little secret,” Cas spat out. “I’ve done that before, apparently. I’m not doing it again.”

“Jesus Christ, Cas. This isn’t about Dean; this is about Balthazar, isn’t it?” Gabe rubbed an exasperated hand across his face and muttered to himself. “That fucking asshole. A whole goddamn year later, and he’s still ruining your life.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “He’s not ruining my life, Gabe.”

“No, you’re right. You’re doing a bang-up job of that all on your own.” Gabe sighed. “Look, Cas, will you just forget about that prick once and for all? He was a dick, end of story. Dean? He was no Balthazar. He cared about you. _Still_ cares about you.”

“Yeah? Well, he has a shitty way of showing it.”

“Yeah, shitty.” Gabe huffed out a hollow laugh. “Like throwing you a nice birthday party, or flying to Boston with you…”

“Both things that Balthazar would’ve done,” Cas pointed out.

“Yeah, you’re right. But you know what? That’s _all_ Balthazar would’ve done. What about picking you up from work and surprising you with a home-cooked dinner? What about taking you to the arboretum so you could spend the day taking pictures? Did Balthazar even know you like to do that, huh? Did he ever stay up late watching a Lord of the Rings marathon with you, or whatever geeked-out shit you guys watch? Did he ever display any interest whatsoever in the things _you_ like to do, or was it all about him?

“Or let me ask you this – did he ever, in the three years you guys were together, introduce you to his family?”

“He was an only child,” Cas muttered. “His parents retired to France. It would’ve been difficult.”

“He took you to freaking Montréal for your birthday once! I hardly think his parents’ house would’ve been that hard to pull off, even with you in school. You had Christmas break, and summers off, and fall break, and Thanksgiving, and spring break. He could’ve made that happen anytime if he’d really wanted to.”

“So what, I was an idiot for staying with him? What do you want from me, Gabe? I was in love with him, and I thought he loved me too.”

“No, Cas, that’s not what I’m saying at all.” Gabe sighed and laid a tentative hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Look, I’m sure he did love you in his own little Balthazar way, even if he did end up seeing someone else behind your back and eloping with her.”

“Not helping, Gabe.”

“ _But_ … he was all about the big gestures, you know? Christmas and birthdays. Not so much the rest of the year. I think…” Gabe stopped and sighed. “I really think, if you hadn’t been in school and hadn’t been so preoccupied 24/7, you would’ve seen it sooner and left him.”

“Seen what?” Cas was curious despite himself.

“That relationships are about more than just Christmas and birthdays. You need someone who’s gonna be there for you all the time, not just spend a shit ton of money twice a year to prove to everyone else how much you mean to them. Hey, there’s nothing wrong with the big romantic gestures like that. But Cas, you deserve to be with someone who shows you how much they love you all those days in between, too. The silly text messages in the middle of a shitty work day, helping you grade homework, ordering your favorite pizza for dinner and watching cheesy movies with you on a random Tuesday. Those little things on all those in-between days, that’s the stuff that really matters.”

“So, what are you saying? That just because Dean made me pancakes once then I should forgive him for choosing that asshole Gordon Walker over me, or hiding me from his ex-wife?”

“To be quite honest, yeah. You should. No, hear me out,” Gabe protested, seeing the look on Cas’ face. “Dean told you himself what kind of shit he had been going through back then. I know you never told me specifics, but it must’ve been pretty fucked up. Don’t you think it’s possible Gordon was going through some of the same kind of stuff, and that’s why he and Dean were friends? I know if doesn’t excuse what they did to you, but you know what? _Everyone_ had shitty stuff happen to them in high school. It’s just part of high school, man. Dean wanting to go to that wedding doesn’t mean that he values Gordon over you; it just means he wanted to see an old friend be happy for one night out of his life, that’s all.”

“What about Lisa, though? You gotta admit, Gabe. Him hiding me from her is pretty shitty.”

Gabe looked down at his lap and sighed.“Okay, let me ask you something. If you had run into Balthazar, before you found out about the wife, and he told you he’d married a woman after leaving you, how would you have felt? Or let me ask you this – how _did_ you feel when you found out?”

Cas shook his head. “That’s completely different. Balthazar left me for her. They’d already been dating. Dean’s ex was remarried _before_ he and I started dating. Dean didn’t leave Lisa for me. There was no need to hide anything, but he did it anyway.”

“And the fact that your ex is now with a woman didn’t faze you the least little bit?”

“No, Gabe, it actually hurt like hell, but that’s beside the point.”

“No, that is the point. That hurt like hell, and he isn’t even in your life anymore. Dean and Lisa have a child together. They still have to see each other, and talk to each other, and make parenting decisions together. How do you think you would’ve felt if you’d still had to see Balthazar twice a week, every week, since you broke up, and _then_ you found out he was with a woman?

“Look, all I’m saying is, that’s a tough conversation to have, and maybe you should cut the guy some slack. Coming out is a huge fucking deal, and it’s not easy, especially with someone you shared a life and a family with for twelve years.”

“I don’t know, Gabe. I hear what you’re saying, but that doesn’t diminish the fact that those things still hurt me a great deal.”

“Yeah, I know. But you know what I think? I think if you hadn’t just found out about Balthazar, then the things Dean did wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Honestly, I think you’re still hurting over what Balthazar did to you; you never got any real closure with him, so you’re looking for it now, but with the wrong person.

Cas thought about Gabe’s words for a second. “You think I need closure?”

“What I think is, you need to stop punishing the wrong person.”

 

* * *

 

“Dean, did the two of you break up?”

His first instinct was to deny. _“What are you talking about? Cas and I never…”_

But fuck, if that wasn’t exactly what got him into this mess in the first place. Plus, Lisa already knew. The jig was up. He felt his shoulders sag with the weight of everything. “Yeah,” he murmured. “We broke up.”

Lisa lay a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “Dean, I’m so sorry.”

“How’d you know, anyway?”

“About you guys breaking up?”

“No, that we… that we were…”

“Dating? Dean, I know you. You wear your heart on your sleeve. It was kinda hard to miss.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

Lisa shook her head. “Not if you’re this miserable that it’s over. I’m not okay with that.”

“But you don’t care that I was with a guy?”

Her lips quirked up into a little half-smile. “Come on. I was with you for twelve years. Did you think I never noticed that you were bi?”

Dean choked on his own saliva. “Seriously? You knew?” All this time he had been putting this conversation off, and she knew? Dean had to sit down a moment; this was all a little overwhelming. He made his way to the porch steps and sank down, twelve years’ worth of memories replaying at warp speed. He had tried so hard to keep that part of himself quiet while they were together; he’d figured it would have served no purpose to tell his girlfriend/wife that he also liked guys, since he’d chosen to be with her. He’d kept this side of himself carefully hidden for so long, or so he thought.

Dean’s heart sank as a sudden thought rushed to the front of his mind. “Wait, is that why you left? Because I was bi?”

Lisa’s brows pinched in sadness. “Dean, no. Absolutely not.” She came over and sat down next to him, staring down at her feet as she spoke. “I never cared about that. It didn’t matter; I knew you would never do anything as long as we were together.”

“Then why… we were happy, weren’t we? Why wasn’t that enough?”

“Honestly?” Lisa sighed. When she looked back up at him, her eyes were glistening with tears. “Because, Dean, you just weren’t The One.”

“And _he_ was?” Dean still couldn’t bring himself to say the name of the man who had married his ex.

“Yes, he was. Is. When I met him, I just knew.”

“That he was The One and I wasn’t?”

Lisa nodded, a tear escaping and tracking down her cheek. “I’m so sorry, Dean. Maybe I should’ve told you, maybe I should’ve done things differently, but the truth is, I just didn’t want to hurt you any more than I already had. I mean, how do you tell someone that you love them with your whole heart, but you know you still don’t belong together?”

Dean knew from experience that there was no good way to tell someone that, because Cas had just told him something similar and it hurt like hell. “So, he’s it for you, then?”

“He’s it for me.” Lisa wiped away a stray tear from the corner of her eye. “And I know you probably don’t want to hear this from me, but I think Cas is it for you.”

“Lis, he dumped me, remember? Maybe he was it for me, but I sure wasn’t for him.”

“Don’t you think he’s worth fighting for, though?”

Of course Cas was worth fighting for; that’s what made this whole thing so goddamn painful. But Dean had already done that, time after time after time. He’d been the one to go to Cas’ house after their kiss at the Beehive; he’d sent all those text messages, and gone to Cas’ house to apologize; he’d been the one to crawl back to Cas first after their fight about the wedding invitation. Cas had tried to tell him over and over again, and he’d come back every single time. Well, now he had no more fight left in him. “It doesn’t matter. I have to respect his wishes.”

“And what about your wishes, huh? You don’t get a say in things?”

Dean huffed. “Oh, I said plenty back in high school.”

Lisa just looked at him, confusion painted across her features. Fuck it, Dean decided.

He told her everything – seeing Cas around school, meeting Matt, getting beaten by his dad, bullying Cas in the aftermath, the awful things he said at Prom. Once he’d started he just couldn’t stop, going on to tell her about seeing Cas years later on the job with Benny, sending him the apology letter and meeting him again at Home Depot, finding out about Balthazar, the final fights over his stupidity regarding Gordon’s wedding and not telling her. Lisa didn’t say a word, she just sat there and absorbed it all, only once betraying her feelings on the matter when a single tear ran down her cheek as Dean spoke of breaking his arm.

“So you see?” he added as he concluded his revelations. “I don’t really deserve to get a say in things. I think I’ve said enough to him for one lifetime.”

Lisa was quiet a minute, letting Dean’s words hang in the air as she gathered her thoughts. He was so sure she was going to lay into him for the awful things he had said and done over the years, but once again she surprised him. “Do you remember what you said to me the first time we met, back at the Roadhouse?”

Dean thought back; he vaguely remembered Lisa getting hired and himself thinking she wouldn’t last a day, but whatever words he’d said to her were gone from memory now. “No. what’d I say?”

“Something to the effect of, ‘Look, princess, why don’t you just go back to the sorority house or wherever the fuck you came from and leave the real work to the grown-ups, huh?’”

“Jesus,” Dean sniffed, shaking his head in embarrassment. “I am so fucking sorry. You know, it’s a wonder you ever spoke to me again.”

“The point is,” Lisa continued, playfully bumping his shoulder with her own, “that I did. You were an angry little shit back then, always rude to everybody, but I got over it. We all did. And you want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a good man, Dean Winchester. Underneath all that macho bravado beats the heart of a decent, honest man who would give his life for the ones he loves. And as much as you tried to hide it back then, the real you always showed through. You can’t hide how good you are.” Lisa wrapped an arm around him and leaned her head against his. “Look, finding that out about his ex couldn’t have been easy. Give him some time, Dean.”

Dean nodded in reluctant acceptance. “This sucks, Lis. I wish I could just talk some sense into him. Make him see how silly this whole thing is.”

“I know.” Lisa put a sympathetic hand on Dean’s knee. “But when people get hurt, they don’t always deal with it in the most logical of ways.”

Yeah, Dean was familiar with that.

 

* * *

 

Cas really hated his brother sometimes.

He could always count on Gabe to listen to his problems, lend a sympathetic ear, and tell him what to do. This time, though? Gabe definitely didn’t pull his punches.

Cas had done the right thing; of that, he was absolutely sure. He and Dean may have had a good time together, but they never should have been together in the first place. People like Dean Winchester and people like Castiel Milton were just not meant to cross paths in life in any setting other than bully and victim. If this one thing hadn’t happened to point out the vast chasm of difference between them, something else would have.

Cas had done the right thing. Hadn’t he?

He had seemed so sure last week in the middle of the fight with Dean. Now? He wasn’t so sure anymore. Gabe’s words kept turning in his mind over and over, making him wonder.

Dean, Balthazar, Balthazar, Dean – it was an endless loop in his mind. Had Balthazar been such a bad boyfriend and he just hadn’t seen it? Was he so blinded by Balthazar’s good looks and charm that he didn’t realize he’d been in a bad relationship? Sure, Dean did all those little things that Gabe described and more.

_And he is way better in bed than Balthazar ever was,_ his subconscious so helpfully reminded him. Cas told his subconscious to shut it.

Surely those little differences didn’t mean that Balthazar had been a bad person? Just different, right? Cas was always either at school or at home studying, and Balthazar had his own stresses going on in his life, what with trying to make partner and all.

_Which was probably a lie he used to go spend more time with his girlfriend_ , his subconscious added.

Cas told his subconscious once again to shut the fuck up.

He wished he could just call Pam and discuss this all with her, just have her tell him what to do. It would be so much easier to have a neutral party to hear his side and tell him whether he was justified or being an idiot. Something told him that this was something he needed to figure out on his own, however.

The next best thing to having Pam with him would be to go for a run, he decided. Even going alone, it always seemed to clear his head. Cas donned his shorts and running shoes, grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

It was always so relaxing, the rhythm of his cadence and breaths as he jogged the gentle slopes of his tree-lined neighborhood, and it was much more so now that he wasn’t pushing himself toward marathon distance.

_Dean came with you marathon day_ , his subconscious so helpfully reminded him.

They weren’t dating yet, just friends then. Dean had stopped by Dunkin on the way and bought coffee and donuts for the two of them and Gabe. He’d even picked out a few of the seasonal Easter-themed ones with the marshmallow Peeps, remembering how Cas had mentioned in passing his brother’s love for the sugary monstrosities.

Dean had even spent the day with Gabriel. He had agreed to do so without hesitation, without knowing what would happen during those hours alone – whether Gabe would go all protective big-brother and rip Dean a new one for what he’d done in high school, or let it go and give Dean the second chance that Cas had decided to. Putting aside the fact that Cas was now questioning whether giving Dean that second chance was a mistake, he had to give Dean credit for agreeing to come along that day. Dean had no idea what he was walking into, and he’d agreed anyway.

Would Balthazar have done the same thing, agree to spend a day with Cas’ brother knowing that there was a chance he could get verbally attacked at any time?

Cas wasn’t so sure.

Balthazar hated confrontation, and would go out of his way to avoid it. Someone jumped in front of them in line? _“Let it go, Cassie. It’s not worth it.”_ Cas had always told himself that Balthazar was so Zen with his calm “let it go” attitude. But now, in the shadow of Balthazar leaving in such a cowardly – yes, he was using that word now, and it felt fucking _fantastic_ – manner, Cas was positive that it wasn’t Zen at all. It was fear.

Maybe his fear was justified. Maybe he had had a confrontation with someone in his past that had ended badly, be it a parent, school acquaintance, or a total stranger. But you know what? Cas had experienced that as well, with Dean and his cronies, and yes, it had taken years to deal with it and in some ways he still was dealing with it, but at least he had had the balls to tell Dean how he felt. Dean would never have to wonder why Cas had broken up with him.

Cas’ steps became more and more assured, his feet pounding the pavement harder and harder with each step as he began to realize that Gabe was right. Maybe not about him being wrong to break up with Dean, or needing to cut Dean some slack about the whole Lisa thing – Cas had no idea how to feel about that anymore, but that was for another day. Gabe was right about one thing, though.

He’d never gotten real closure with Balthazar.

Well, that was going to change.

 

* * *

 

Balthazar reached into his pocket and whipped his phone out the second he exited the courthouse. _Fuck_. Seven messages. He switched the sound back on and scrolled though them, smiling at his wife’s increasingly frustrated tone over his not answering.

She picked up on the first ring. “Why the hell haven’t you been answering? You were supposed to be done hours ago.”

“Couldn’t be helped, love. That arse of a judge took his sweet precious time. Nothing we could do but sit there and take it.”

“Well, don’t forget you have that lunch meeting today with that new client.”

“I’m on my way there now.” Balthazar made his way down Courthouse Way and onto Northern toward the waterfront. “I should just make it. What was his name again?”

“James Rousseau.”

“And you have no idea what he wants?”

“Nope, he wouldn’t tell me. Said he could only discuss it with you in person. Sounds kind of clandestine, don’t you think? Like super-secret spy stuff?”

“Darling, I seriously doubt it’s anything that interesting, but I will be sure to keep you posted,” he laughed.

“You better. Call me when you’re done? We got a shit ton of stuff to go through for the Westfield case, and Mr. Lipscomb called again. I penciled him in at 3.”

“That’s fine. Hopefully this won’t take too long.” Balthazar winced in disgust as he spotted the restaurant’s telltale orange and yellow tent, and made his way toward the building’s marina. “Bugger. I do wish I didn’t have to meet this Mr. Rousseau at such a second-rate tourist trap.”

“Aww, honey. I think you’ll manage. Call me when you’re done? I’m dying to hear what this is about.”

“Will do, love. Hang on a sec.” Balthazar tilted the phone away from his mouth as he walked inside and smiled at the maître d'. “I’m meeting a Mr. Rousseau for lunch here?”

“Yeah. Already seated.” The guy pointed across the restaurant, and Balthazar’s heart stopped when he recognized the man seated at the table, casting a pensive gaze out onto the water.

_Fuck._

“Darling, I’m afraid you’ll have to cancel my afternoon.”

 


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing personal against the Barking Crab restaurant in Boston. It's a fun place to eat, and they have really good crab cakes.

Cas could feel a set of eyes on him. He turned his gaze away from the water, and saw him. “Hello, Balthazar.”

“Castiel. This is a surprise.” Balthazar just stood there, offering his hand for a handshake.

Cas had been thinking about this exact moment for a while now, wondering what he would say or do to break the ice once he finally met Balthazar face to face. As he stood up and came eye to eye with this man who had so thoroughly wrecked him, he found that none of those words quite conveyed just how deeply Balthazar had hurt him. His fingers curled into a tight fist as his arm pulled back, launching forward to sock Balthazar in the cheekbone just below his eye.

Yeah, that’s what his life had been missing this past year.

A few gasps and shrieks sounded from the nearby tables as Balthazar stumbled back and landed on the floor. “It’s okay, I’m alright,” Balthazar groaned to no one in particular as he struggled to sit up. “I suppose I deserved that.”

“You deserved worse,” Cas remarked, sitting back down and leaving Balthazar to get back up on his own.

Balthazar dusted off what Cas guessed was a $5000 suit and seated himself across from Cas at the picnic-style table, a look of disgust momentarily flashing across his features before he schooled them into his most charming smile. “I should have known it was going to be you, Mr. James Rousseau,” he winked, wincing at the pull of muscles across his sore cheekbone.

“To tell you the truth,” Cas admitted, “I was so sure you would immediately know it was me and you wouldn’t show.”

“Well, I must admit, you got me. Your middle name and your mother’s maiden name? Very clever.” Balthazar sighed, his face suddenly serious. “But just to be clear, even if I _had_ known it was you, I still would’ve come.”

It wasn’t quite the words Cas had been hoping to hear, but it was a start. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe they could have a civil lunch together; Cas would say his piece and Balthazar would apologize, and they would go about their lives in peace. He held Balthazar’s gaze for a moment as he pondered how best to respond, those piercing steel-blue eyes that he had looked into countless times before, and nodded. “Thank you.”

Balthazar chuckled, breaking his gaze and glancing down at the menu. “Even if you did choose _this_ place.”

Cas sighed, his hope beginning to fade; Balthazar had always been rather snobbish in his dining preferences. He wondered what would happen if he had taken Balthazar to the Roadhouse, and stifled a smile at the thought of Ellen and Balthazar facing off. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t resist. The thought of seeing you all dressed up in your Italian silk suit sitting here eating lobster with a bib was too much to pass up.”

“Who says we’re ordering lobster?” Balthazar asked, his eyebrows climbing his forehead.

“I do,” Cas replied pointedly as the waiter approached. “And you’re paying.”

“Well, then. I can’t argue with that.” Balthazar glanced at the menu, scanning the wine list.

“Hey, fellas. I’m Neil, and I’ll be your waiter. I trust there won’t be any more altercations this afternoon?”

Balthazar glanced at Cas. “No, sir. We’ll be good boys from here on out,” he replied, eyes dancing with amusement. Cas didn’t find it very funny, and wasn’t promising anything.

“So, what can I get you to drink?”                                    

“We’ll have a bottle of the 2012 La Follette Chardonnay, please.” Balthazar flipped the menu over, scanning the entrées. “And two Venus platters, if you will.”

“Will that be all?”

“Some ice?” Balthazar winked at the waiter. It was really starting to piss Cas off that Balthazar was treating this whole situation like one big joke.

Neil huffed a laugh. “No problem. Be right back with your wine.”

“So, how long will you be in town? Are you flying back this afternoon?” Balthazar turned back to Cas, folding his hands across the table in front of him and smiling that devilishly innocent smile like they were merely two old friends having a nice lunch. Like Cas hadn’t tracked him down to confront him about marrying someone else while they were still living together.

Cas didn’t quite know what to say at the moment. So many things swirled in his head. He wanted to say all of them, and somehow nothing seemed appropriate for this setting anymore. Why did he think this place was a good idea? Between the bright orange and yellow tent overhead and the man sitting in front of him, it was getting hard to focus. “No, I’ll be here for a few days,” he replied dismissively.

“All right, let’s just address the big elephant in the room now and get it over with, shall we?”

Cas could practically hear Balthazar’s eyes roll. “And which elephant is that?” he asked, knowing full well what Balthazar was referring to. He wasn’t going to let the man off the hook, though; he wanted Balthazar to say the words out loud.

“This elephant.” Balthazar held up his left hand and jiggled his wedding ring with his thumb. “I assume that’s why you’re here?”

Cas sat there and waited for Balthazar to continue, waited for some sort of explanation or “oh yeah, by the way, I cheated on you, and I’m deeply sorry for lying to you,” but it never came.

“Fine,” Balthazar sighed. “Yes, I got married. To my lovely wife and paralegal, Ruby.” He reached across the table and took Cas’ hand in his. “Now can we please put this unpleasantness behind us and have lunch?”

Cas removed his hand from Balthazar’s, and folded it in his lap. This was not going at all the way he had planned; he had come here to get some sort of closure with Balthazar, and instead his emotions were at war. He was so angry at Balthazar and had everything planned out that he’d wanted to say, but something about this man just tied his tongue, and always had.

Why was this so hard? This was supposed to be easy. Well not _easy_ per se, but straightforward at least.

“This place was a mistake,” Cas finally concluded. How in the hell had he expected to be serious under this garishly-colored tent while eating shellfish with a bib? He’d thought it would lighten the mood, and maybe it did for a moment, but now he was just plain nauseated and wanted to leave. He slid out of his seat and headed for the door.

He heard Balthazar sigh once more behind him. “I’ll find the waiter.”

Cas made his way through the tables toward the door. At this point he didn’t care what Balthazar had to do to settle the tab; that was Balthazar’s problem. He began strolling northwards along the pier, not consciously thinking about where his feet were taking him. It didn’t matter anyway.

Balthazar caught up a few moments later. “You want to tell me what that was about?” He sounded irritated.

“Seriously?” Cas huffed. “You’re pissed at me?”

“All I’m saying is, I’m a little confused, Cassie. One moment you’re punching me in the face and the next you seem happy to see me. I don’t know if I can keep up with you.”

_Jesus Christ, was he always this blind and self-absorbed?_

Cas was stunned speechless, and decided he needed a little space between himself and Balthazar before he broke his hand punching the man again. He took a few steps toward the harbor and braced his hands on the railing at the edge of the sidewalk, his knuckles turning white with his grip. He took a few deep, cleansing breaths to try and get his mind focused back on what he came here to say.

Balthazar came up beside Cas and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I guess you have every right to be angry with me. I know could’ve handled things better and probably owe you an apology, but come on, Cassie…”

“No,” Castiel interrupted. That was it. He had heard that placating tone of Balthazar’s so many times before and it had worked in the past because he was willing to let things slide for the man he loved, but now it just angered him.

“No?” Balthazar sounded confused; he wasn’t used to Cas standing up to him.

“No, Balthazar.” Cas’ emotions might be all over the place, but one thought now shone clear through them, and that was that he wasn’t going to let Balthazar take this moment away from him. Whatever dam had been holding him back was gone now. “No. You don’t just get to just say you’re sorry – no, _insinuate_ that you’re sorry – and expect that to fix everything. I mean, Christ, would you ever have tried to apologize to me for what you did if I hadn’t tracked you down and tricked you into having lunch with me?”

The look on Balthazar’s face told Cas everything he needed to know.

“You know what? Fuck you. I went through hell, Balthazar. Coming home to that condo after I’d spent the week taking my exams – my master’s degree comps, for fuck’s sake! – and seeing all your stuff gone? Do you have any idea how much that hurt? How _absolutely disrespectful_ that was, not only to me, but to the time we’d spent together, like those three years had meant nothing to you? That you thought so little of me you couldn’t even leave a goddamned post-it note saying you were leaving me?”

“I know, Castiel, you’re absolutely right. I should’ve…”

“No. You don’t get a say in this.” Cas took a deep breath, steeling himself to say the words he should’ve said the moment he laid eyes on Balthazar. “You know what? You’re a coward. That’s right, Balthazar, you’re a coward. The first time we dated back in college, you broke up with me over the phone. And that summer we spent together, after your first year of law school? You just plain quit returning my phone calls, even though we’d both promised to keep in touch. And this time, after we’d lived together for _three years_ , you just walk off and marry someone else without a single goddamn word? After everything we’d been through, after everything we’d promised we’d be for each other, you owed me more than that.

“And you know what’s funny? I’ve spent this whole time thinking that somehow it was my fault you left. A _year_ I spent wondering where you went, wondering if it was something I’d done to push you away; wondering if I’d just decided not to get my master’s, then maybe you would’ve stayed; wondering if maybe I just wasn’t worthy of your love, or worthy of being loved at all. But you know what I realize now? _This was not my fault_. This is on you. I’m a good person, and I deserved more respect than that. In fact, I deserved a lot more than you ever gave me.”

Cas stopped and took a breath, wondering where the hell all that had come from; that hadn’t what he’d been rehearsing in his head at all. But slowly those words that had unconsciously spilled out of him began to sink in, and Cas suddenly realized – Jesus Christ, Gabriel was right.

 _“I really think,”_ Gabe had told him, _“if you hadn’t been in school and hadn’t been so preoccupied 24/7, you would’ve seen it sooner and left him.”_

When Cas started back to school, he and Balthazar had promised that they would make time for each other, that Balthazar would meet him for lunch when court was in recess, that they’d have date nights and weekends away and stolen moments where they could find them. But whenever Cas invited Balthazar to lunch he always got a “sorry, Cassie, can’t break away just now.” When he tried to plan a date night, Balthazar would have a case that was more pressing. When Cas tried to take an afternoon off to go visit Balthazar at the office, Balthazar would be in closed-door meetings all afternoon.

And if Cas hadn’t been in school and been so busy every other moment of every day, he eventually would’ve seen how one-sided their relationship had been. He would’ve seen that Balthazar was nothing but a narcissistic, self-absorbed jerk who always put himself and his job first and Cas a distant second, and Cas would’ve left.

And he damn well would’ve had the decency to say goodbye before leaving.

Gabe was right. And Cas was a colossal idiot.

Because he did have someone that had been there for him, someone who had done all of that for him and more. Someone who included Cas in every aspect of his life, who made time for Cas in the middle of a busy day to call him or text him hello, someone who picked him up from work and cooked him dinner and let him pick what shows to watch on Netflix. Someone who loved him and encouraged him and respected him.

Someone who had wronged Cas in the past as Balthazar had done, but who had sought him out and did his damndest to atone for it every single day.

And Cas had taken all of that and basically shit on it, because he’d been so blinded by this man standing in front of him. He’d always put Balthazar on this damn pedestal because the man was British and spoke goddamn French and casually wore Italian silk suits like it was nothing. Well, no more. None of those things meant that Balthazar was a good person underneath.

“I gotta go,” Cas announced suddenly. He took off North, remembering from before where the nearest T station was. He had to get back to his hotel to grab his stuff as quickly as possible and get to the airport. It was probably too late to fix things, but he had to try.

He had to see Dean.

 

* * *

 

Cas fell in love with the movie The Princess Bride the very first time he saw it, when he was in the seventh grade and Anna had brought it home after watching it at a slumber party. He admired the character of Inigo so much – that single-mindedness that Inigo possessed, how Inigo knew exactly what he wanted out of life and was willing to stop at nothing to get it. And, of course, Cas’ favorite line from the entire movie was one of Inigo’s, and he quoted it whenever the situation called for it.

_“I hate waiting.”_

It was practically a throwaway line, as Inigo was doing his best to convince the Man in Black to hurry up those Cliffs of Insanity so that he could go ahead and kill the guy. But it always made Castiel laugh, more often than not because he knew exactly how Inigo felt. Not about the wanting to kill someone part, but about the utter impatience part. Cas hated waiting.

Which is why it sucked ass, balls, and any other body part he could think of that he’d been put on standby when he got to the airport and tried to change his flight. Everything leaving that afternoon was booked, so Cas was faced with either heading back to the hotel, which he’d already checked out of and canceled his reservation for, or spending the rest of the day and possibly the night at the airport until a seat opened up.

He chose to stay. He’d rather be one step closer to getting back home to Dean than sitting in some hotel room pacing the floor, unable to sleep because he couldn’t stop going over and over in his mind how immensely he’d fucked up.

Instead he paced the airport, sagging in defeat as he watched the 3:05 and then the 5:24 flights fill up and leave without him. He had already explored every inch of the airport, window-shopped at every store twice over, and forced himself to choke down some takeout sushi, mainly because he thought the ginger would settle his nervous stomach.

It didn’t.

So when he found himself about to make his third trip around the airport in an attempt to find some modicum of interest in the touristy trinkets, overpriced pre-packaged junk food, and gossip rags until it was time to head back to the terminal for the 7:18 to Kansas City, Cas ended up once again in the bookstore. But this time, something actually did catch his eye. In the far corner, buried in the bottom bin next to a basket of $1 pens adorned with troll heads, was a stack of hard-bound spiral notebooks. He picked one up, along with one of the $1 pens, and headed back to the gate. And then Cas grabbed a seat on the floor by the window, opened the paisley-colored cover to the first blank page, and began to write.

All of this had begun with a letter, after all, so maybe it was high time Cas put his thoughts into words as Dean had done almost a year ago.

It took half a notebook’s worth of writing and re-writing before Cas felt he had something worthy of sending to Dean. Then somewhere amidst the rewrites and discarded pages, a plan began to form in Cas’ mind. It would be too late to do anything tonight even if he managed to get on the next flight, but that was okay. He’d need a little extra time to get things together anyway.

Cas reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, noticing for the first time that the gate had once again filled up. The caller picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“Anna, it’s Cas. Listen, I, um… I fucked up.”

“Oh, thank God!” Anna exhaled audibly over the line. “It was my turn next to try and kick your ass, and I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to.”

“No, you don’t have to.” Cas didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You wanna help me try and fix it?”

“Absolutely,” she answered without hesitation. “What do you need me to do?”

As Cas finished detailing his plan to his sister, he finally, blessedly heard his name over the intercom. _“Mr. Cas-teel Milton to the desk, please. Mr. Cas-teel Milton.”_

Cas unfurled his stiff legs and approached the airline desk with shaky hands, hoping like hell that he wasn’t going to spend the night sleeping on the floor of an airport. “Yes, I’m Mr. Milton.”

“Mr. Milton? We have a seat for you.”

 

* * *

 

Dean had nothing on his agenda for the day and, for the first time since he and Cas had broken up, he actually found that he was looking forward to it. He’d managed to get a full 7 hours’ sleep, a record these days considering how strange it still felt to be sleeping alone.

He spent the better part of the morning just browsing the internet looking for inspiration for new designs for his furniture business, and found several that he’d like to try if he could find the right lumber. Dean grabbed his jacket and his keys to head out; he could stop by the Roadhouse for a quick lunch before hitting the lumber yard afterward.

Dean opened front door opened to the cool October breeze, and immediately noticed something falling to the ground. He pocketed his keys and bent over to retrieve it, his heart stopping when he realized what he held in his hands. Cas had written him a letter, and tucked it into his front door.

Cas had been here? He had to have come after Dean got back from yesterday’s job, or Dean surely would’ve seen the letter then. That meant Cas had stopped by last night, while Dean was home. So Cas was here, at Dean’s house, and didn’t want to see Dean, didn’t want to ring the bell and say hello or anything?

A feeling of dread began to spread through Dean’s bones; if Cas somehow saw how just plain wrong this whole breakup thing was and wanted Dean back, he would’ve done it in person, right? Not in some letter? Dammit, Dean had been having a good day, too.

Well, no matter what the letter said, his day would be shot thinking about Cas anyway, so Dean sat down on the porch steps, steeling himself for the inevitable “Dear John” which surely lay inside those pages, and began to read.

 

_My dearest Dean,_

_I know that it may seem cowardly to apologize and admit my deepest regrets to you on paper instead of in person, but I wanted you to be able to read these words and process them in your own time, without the added pressure and discomfort of having the one who hurt you sitting there in front of you waiting for a response._

_When you wrote me all those months ago, it brought me a great deal of comfort to have something concrete that I could hold in my hands and come back to over and over again, and I hope that this letter will one day do the same for you. But I also wanted you to be able to hold in your hand definitive proof that I love you with my whole heart, probably – no, definitely – more than I’ve loved anyone in my whole life. If I ever give you cause to doubt that again, please come back to this letter and know that it is the God’s honest truth._

_The truth is, my heart is no longer my own, but now exists completely outside myself in your hands. That’s a terrifying thing to admit to anyone, most of all myself. I had my heart shattered once before, and it nearly broke me, in part because I never saw it coming. Then I met you, and things were going so well between us – it scared me that if someone I loved hurt me so deeply once before, then it was sure to happen again. I know it sounds silly and cliché, but it’s the simple truth. I blamed you for things that someone else had done to me, and that was wrong._

_Because what I failed to see then, and now know with every fiber of my being, is that when I was broken, you were the one who put me back together._

_I’m not going to ask for your forgiveness. It’s not mine to ask for, but yours to give freely when you feel I’ve earned it, and right now I know that these few words don’t bring me anywhere close. But if you’ll let me, I will spend the rest of my life expressing to you in as many ways and as often as possible how much you mean to me, and how deeply sorry I am that I ever doubted you._

_And if you can find it in your heart to give me a chance, I would like invite you over to my place, tonight at 7:00 p.m. I realize it’s not exactly neutral territory, but meeting in public didn’t seem quite right, as the things I still need to say to you are for your ears and yours alone. I won’t come to your place, either, as I wanted to give you the choice as to whether to allow me back into your life, not be faced with the prospect of throwing me out of your sanctuary if things between us are well and truly over._

_I won’t beg or plead for you to come tonight. This is solely your choice, and I will accept that and support it either way. Just know that, whatever your decision, I am wholly and profoundly sorry, and I will always love you._

_Castiel_

 

* * *

 

 

Dean glanced at his watch for the 400th time – 6:30. That wasn’t too early to head to Cas’ house, right? It was only a fifteen minute drive, but what if he got caught by red lights? He didn’t want to show up late because he didn’t allow enough extra time for contingencies. That would just be rude. He’d better leave now, just to be safe.

He took a deep breath, trying in vain to calm himself down. That letter didn’t automatically mean that he and Cas were getting back together; he needed to be realistic. Maybe Cas just going to apologize or something, and then they’d go their separate ways. But fuck it, Dean had read that letter hundreds of times by now. Cas wanted him back. Didn’t he? Dean had better leave now. It was already 6:32; he was going to be late.

He grabbed his jacket and keys and headed out the front door.

“Hey there, Dean-O,” a voice called out from the shadows of the front porch. “I wondered how long it’d take you before you got too restless to sit still anymore.”

“Gabe? What’re you doing here?” Dean was confused now; what the hell was going on?

“Just trying to give my brother a little hand in tonight’s events. You were planning on going over to his house, right? Because if you were about to head out to go cruising for guys, this could get a little awkward.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded solemnly. “I’m going to see Cas. Now you wanna tell me what you’re doing here?”

Gabe picked up a garment bag that Dean had failed to notice was slung over the porch railing. “Here. Not that I don’t love the whole jeans-and-flannel look, but you’re a little underdressed.”

Dean unzipped the first few inches of the garment bag, and his eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yep. Now go get dressed. We got a relationship to save.”

Dean emerged a few minutes later in his tuxedo, confused as hell as to what was going on. Where did this tux even come from? How did Cas know his size? And what the hell did Cas have planned that they needed to dress up like this? Dean was confused, but it was a good kind of confusion; his entire body buzzed with anticipation over what Cas had planned next.

“Whoa, looking sharp, there, amigo!”

“Gabe? Why’re you still here?” Dean fully expected Gabe to be gone, with dropping off the tux being his only duty for the evening.

“Because, Dean, I’m your ride for tonight.” Gabe gestured toward the street where, sure enough, a limousine was parked. “You ready?”

Dean gaped at the black stretch vehicle was parked. “You’re driving me in that thing? Where in the hell did you even get a limo from?”

Gabe shrugged. “I know a guy.”

“Okay,” Dean nodded nervously. First a tux and now a limo? Dean followed Gabe to the car and climbed into the back, palms already sweating as he tried to figure out what Cas possibly had planned next. Dean had thought they’d just get together and talk, but clearly Cas had something else in mind.

It was the longest fifteen minute ride of Dean’s life. He kept trying to remind himself that this was just a start, a beginning. These gestures were sweet, but he and Cas still had a lot of talking to do.

Dean was totally not going to sweep Cas up in his arms the second he saw him, and kiss him until the sun came up.

At last the car came to a stop and Gabe opened the door. “Okay, Dean-o, just head for the back yard. Cas is waiting for you there. And Dean?”

“Yeah?” Dean managed to croak out.

“Thanks. You know, for giving this another shot. You could’ve walked away, but you chose not to. So even if things don’t work out, I appreciate you giving him a chance to apologize and make it up to you.”

Dean nodded. He was grateful for Gabe’s words, but Dean knew from the moment he read that letter that there was no other choice for him to make. He had to come. “Thanks, Gabe.”

Gabe slapped him on the shoulder. “Now go get ‘im, tiger.”

Dean walked toward the back yard gate on shaky legs. He squinted through the slats in the fence, trying to catch some glimpse of what was on the other side. As he got closer, he noticed a glow coming from the yard, but couldn’t make out anything specific. And was that music? Dean opened the gate at last, and the sight took his breath away.

The entire yard was tented under swathes of fabric, strung from a post in the center of the yard and draping to the fence in every direction. White twinkling lights strung overhead and wrapped around the trees at the fence line, with lanterns interspersed. The deck was decorated with candles on every surface; even the patio furniture was draped with elegant tablecloths and fabric bows. And Cas was standing there at the center of it all, wearing a tuxedo of his own and looking more handsome than Dean had ever remembered.

No, wait… he almost looked like…

The song playing finally registered – “Unforgettable” by Nat “King” Cole.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, already blinking back tears. “It’s our prom.”

“Yes,” Cas nodded, crossing the distance between them and taking Dean’s hands in his own. “I thought we both needed a do-over, since the first one didn’t go so well.”

Those words pained Dean, an aching reminder of just how much he’d hurt this man in front of him. He knew he’d come here because Cas had something to say to him, but there would never be a day in which Dean would not regret prom night. The apology came to his lips before he could stop it. “Cas…”

“Please, Dean, before you say anything else, just let me say this.”

Cas waited for Dean to nod before continuing. “Dean, I owe you the deepest of apologies. First of all, for not trusting you. Balthazar hurt me, probably more than I had realized, and finding out the depth of his betrayal was not easy for me, but those were _his_ actions, not yours. You have never shown me anything but love and trust and support, and I am so truly sorry that I was too blinded by the past to realize it. All I can do is tell you that I realize it now, and with everything in me I will do my best never to take you for granted again.

“Second of all… and this isn’t easy for me to say, so please bear with me.” Cas took a deep breath and shakily blew it out. “For years I blamed you, and hated you so much for what you said to me that night. It affected so many aspects of my life that it felt like those words were woven into the fabric of my soul and I would never escape them, so much so that I think I sought out someone like Balthazar, even though I knew deep down that he wasn’t a good person, because I truly believed I didn’t deserve any better. But the truth is, Dean, that those words affected me so much not because you said something that was hurtful…” Cas paused, his voice cracking as he continued. “But because you gave voice to something I had always thought about myself.”

Dean’s words once again flashed to the front of his mind – _No one’s ever gonna love you. Nobody wants you around –_ and the implication of what Cas was saying hit him. “Cas, that’s crazy. Don’t think that,” he insisted. “I don’t ever want you to think that.”

Cas smiled wistfully, a tear tracking down his cheek. “It’s hard to ignore that voice inside your head that tells you over and over again that you’re not good enough. But you know what? It took losing you to realize that I’d had someone beside me who told me every day in so many little, wonderful ways just how wrong that voice was. I know it’s probably too late, but I wanted you to know that I finally learned to listen.

“I love you, Dean Winchester. I love you so much, and I am so incredibly sorry for hurting you, and if you’ll let me, I will spend the rest of my life letting you know every day just how much you mean to me. But I understand completely if it’s too late for that. Just know that I will always hold you in my heart, and I will always be thankful that I was loved by you, even if it was just for a little while.”

Dean had to stop for a moment and let all of that sink in; there wasn’t a specific question in there for him to answer, so he wasn’t really sure what to say. So many things swirled in his mind, all competing for attention, and he wasn’t sure which one to give voice to first. Cas was studying him, looking for some sort of clues among his expressions, and must’ve seen some sort of hesitation on Dean’s face, because suddenly Cas’ face fell and he let go of Dean’s hands, giving a single, heartbroken nod.

“Dammit, Cas.” Dean grabbed Cas by the lapels and crashed their mouths together. The kiss was awkward and clumsy, tasting faintly of salty tears from one or the both of them, but Dean wouldn’t have had it any other way. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” he said as they broke apart.

“Yes,” Cas half-laughed-half-sobbed. “I know.”

Dean wrapped both hands around Cas’ neck and leaned their foreheads together, breathing in the scent he had missed so profoundly. “Did you really think for one second that there was any version of this where I wouldn’t take you back in a heartbeat? I told you, Cas, you’re it for me. For better or worse, you’re stuck with me.”

“I think I got the better end of the deal there,” Cas whispered.

Dean tightened his fingers. “Don’t ever say things like that, you hear me? You and me, we’ve both fucked up with each other in one way or another. All we can do now is learn from it and move on. Just, you know, talk to me from now on, will you? You don’t ever have to go through stuff alone. If something’s bothering you, just talk to me, and we can figure it out together, okay?”

“Okay,” Cas nodded, fresh tears spilling down his face.

Dean wiped the tears from Cas’ cheek with his thumb and pulled Cas in for another kiss. They’d definitely need to talk more about this, but not tonight. For now enough had been said, and the best way Dean knew to accept Cas’ apology and start fresh was to pour all the love and reassurance he could into their kiss, and he didn’t stop until he felt Cas relax against him.

“Now,” Dean smiled as they broke apart, holding out his hand. “Since we’re at Prom and everything, can I have this dance?”

Cas smiled as Dean took his hand and led him to the center of the yard. Cas held Dean’s hand against his heart as Dean wrapped his arm around Cas’ waist. Cas rested his free hand against Dean’s shoulder, slowly venturing toward Dean’s neck until his fingers were threading though Dean’s hair. They held each other, slowly swaying together under the soft glow of the twinkling lights, neither one daring to break the spell with words just yet lest this moment prove to be just a dream.

The song on the CD had long since changed over from their original prom theme song to some cheesy love ballad that Dean vaguely recognized. Suddenly a lyric jumped out at him. “Hey, I remember that song! The Pretenders, right?”

Cas chuckled wetly against Dean’s cheek. “It’s called ‘I’ll Stand By You.’ Kinda ironic, huh?”

“No, it’s perfect,” Dean murmured. “They played this that night, at Prom, didn’t they?”

Cas shook his head against Dean’s cheek. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Of course I remember. Wait, is this a CD of all our prom songs?”

“Yes,” Cas nodded. “I called Anna and asked her for as many as she could think of. She has a much better memory of that night than I do.”

Dean just squeezed Cas tighter, memories of that night flooding in. He hadn’t wanted to go, he remembered, but Ellen had talked him into it. Somehow Dean had known that that night would be painful, and it was, but not for the reason he’d been expecting.

“I remember you, that night,” Dean whispered, so softly he didn’t know if Cas could even hear him. “I remember seeing you come out of the photo room with Anna.”

“I remember seeing you too,” Cas whispered shakily.

Dean wasn’t sure whether this was the right time to say anything considering everything they’d been through, but he’d told Cas that they’d talk to each other from now on, and total honesty meant that he needed to get this out. “I remember seeing you across the room, and you looked so handsome in that tux, like freaking James Bond or something. I almost couldn’t breathe.”

Cas pulled away suddenly and looked at Dean, his face a mass of confusion. “Wait, what?”

“I said I thought you were so handsome you took my breath away,” Dean repeated, steeling himself for the inevitable fallout.

“But… I saw you! I saw you looking at me, like you were pissed. Like I’d somehow ruined your night just by showing up.”

“No.” Dean shook his head. “Just by showing up with someone else.”

Cas stared at Dean, his mouth agape. “What are you saying?”

Dean smiled wistfully. “What I’m saying is, I had a huge freaking crush on you, Cas. I was in love with you from the moment I first saw you Freshman year. And yeah, I was a huge asshole to you because I didn’t want to accept what that meant for me, and I’ll probably spend the rest of my life regretting it, because maybe we could’ve had something back then if I’d just learned to ignore that voice inside _my_ head.”

Cas closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Dean’s. “You and I are both such colossal idiots.”

Dean huffed. “Yeah, we are kinda fucked-up, aren’t we?”

“But at least now we can be fucked-up together, right?”

“Yeah.” Dean wrapped his arms around Cas once more and held on for dear life, thankful for probably the first time in his life that he didn’t have to worry about letting go. They’d probably still have their moments of being fucked-up, of fighting over things that shouldn’t matter, of letting life get in the way, but they would always find their way back, because Dean wasn’t going anywhere.

And now Dean knew, to the very marrow of his bones, that neither was Cas.


End file.
